


Mayday

by ObdurateSinner



Series: Aviators [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Binge Drinking, Bottom Eren Yeager, Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Businessman Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Murder, Night Terrors, Panic Attack, Pilot Eren Yeager, Pilot Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Eren Yeager, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2020-09-25 09:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 101,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObdurateSinner/pseuds/ObdurateSinner
Summary: After getting as close to a dream job as he can, Eren Yeager is kidnapped in the war-torn country of Marley by a group of militant extremists. Political protocol bars Levi from paying the ransom, which he can easily afford, leading to Eren being held captive for far longer than he should have. The young pilot is eventually released and sent back home to Eldia, but Levi quickly realizes that the Eren who returned from that hellhole is not the same man who left.Follow Eren and Levi as they fight to rebuild their lives following the harrowing and traumatic experience Eren had suffered, desperately trying to salvage their relationship amidst Eren’s trauma and rebuilding of himself.Sequel to Crash.





	1. The Instructor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all and welcome aboard for the next installment in Eren and Levi's lives as pilots and lovers!
> 
> This work is in the same universe as Crash, and is the sequel to that story. It can be read as a stand-alone, but there are a number of events referencing Crash, so if you want more to read, please feel free to check that story out as well.
> 
> First and foremost, please take note of the tags. I will add tags as they come up. The story is going to deal with a lot of PTSD particularly pertaining to kidnapping, but I will refrain from writing explicit scenes of a sensitive nature. That being said, if something does get a little touchy, I will make a note of it in that chapter's notes.
> 
> Secondly, this is the first time in forever that I am writing a new story from scratch, and I will try and update at a minimum once a week. Of course, writing is a hobby and life sometimes gets in the way, but if I do get a chance for more frequent updates, I will surely post them.
> 
> Thirdly, please note that Levi and Eren are Vers in this story. I know many readers strictly prescribe to Top!Levi and Bottom!Eren, but (and this is covered in Crash), the dynamic of their relationship does see Levi predominantly as the Top, but not strictly so. Please keep that in mind.
> 
> Lastly, comments are always welcome. Please share your thoughts and nuances with me on this journey, as I am writing this story for you. My blessed readers.
> 
> I do hope you all enjoy this story, as it has been a long time coming and is very close to my heart.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This is purely a work of fiction and is written for no monetary gain. The characters and names of areas belong to Hajime Isayama and the Attack on Titan manga/anime. All other brands and names mentioned in the story are not mine and there is no profit gain or marketing intended. Any and all similarities between this story and real-world occurrences, as well as any people, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

The runway was coming closer at an alarming rate.

Green eyes flickered to the airspeed indicator, and Eren sighed for the umpteenth time as he noted the needle flitting about the ninety miles per hour mark – fourteen miles per hour too fast. With his arms already crossed over his chest and his hands balled into tight fists that were shoved in the crooks of his elbows, there was not much more the young instructor could do to show his obvious displeasure at the ungodly speed at which they were careening towards Mother Earth.

As much as he wanted to shout, he didn’t.

_Watch your fucking speed! Are you fucking stupid? How the hell do you already have thirty hours? You call this flying? Do you want to fucking kill us, you idiot?_

The words lingered in his throat, but Eren bit his tongue lest he speak them. His fowl language, thanks to none other than Levi, was inappropriate in the cockpit…and if he were to speak like that to this particular student, the boy would either shut down completely or become a tearful wreck. Neither option was ideal while landing an aircraft, not that what he was attempting to do right now could rightfully be called a landing.

It was nothing more than an aircraft rocketing towards the ground; a potential fuck up.

“You’re too fast,” Eren said in a dull, monotonous voice that conveyed his resignation. He knew this student wouldn’t listen either way, so why bother?

At less that two miles to run before the threshold of the runway, the student still, for some unfathomable reason, made no effort to slow the Piper Cherokee down. It made Eren wonder what the hell was going on in the boy’s head – what sane human being would point an aircraft’s nose at the ground and continue at this speed? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that a collision with the ground at this speed would be fatal. Eren had seen that firsthand.

The instructor clenched his jaw and exhaled harshly, pushing that thought out of his mind. Now was not the time to think about the past. Yes, the accident had changed him as a pilot, but right now he was supposed to be monitoring a student trying to land. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Most aircraft accidents happen on landing.

“_Alpha Oscar Tango, cleared touch-and-go runway two-niner, wind light and variable_,” the controller shot out. The radio had been incredibly busy, but it didn’t faze Eren in the least; three years in this hornet’s nest of an airspace had completely numbed him to the constant firing of voices in his ears.

Eren’s reply was curt; he depressed his PTT before his student could even begin to process the need to reply. “Alpha Oscar Tango, request full stop.”

“_Alpha Oscar Tango, cleared to land_.”

“Cleared to land, two-niner, Alpha Oscar Tango.” Eren addressed his student then, not bothering to turn to the boy as he said, “Full stop.”

The student didn’t even acknowledge the command.

By now, Eren was past caring what the boy did. Or did not do. Eren’s nearly one-thousand-four-hundred hours of instruction had honed his reflexes to the point where he called himself an ‘accident-preventer’ rather than a ‘flight instructor’. While their situation was dangerous, Eren knew he would be able to take control and safely land the aircraft at the last possible moment.

At just a quarter mile before the runway, something snapped in the student pilot’s mind. Eren was sorely tempted to applaud as the kid _finally_ acknowledged his excessive airspeed with a breathily whispered, “Oh no, I’m very fast…”

The kid pitched the nose up to reduce the airspeed.

_Well done!_ Eren thought. A little late, but rather late than never.

However, that was where things went south. Eren’s jubilation balked as he watched – with something akin to morbid fascination – the student raise the aircraft’s nose ever higher, without reducing the power. While the aircraft did indeed slow down, it also stopped descending. Within a matter of seconds, they were above the approach path…far above it. While the student realized this immediately, his reaction was, to say the least, inappropriate.

Eren suppressed a groan and resisted the urge to tear his brunet hair from his skull by the fistful as he watched the flustered student pitch the nose of the aircraft back down towards the runway. No, pitch down was not what the boy did; he _shoved_ the control column forward, initiating a nosedive at barely a hundred-and-fifty feet above the ground. Was this bastard suicidal?

“What the hell are you doing?” Eren snapped as his patience finally ran out.

Over the threshold, at a hundred feet above ground, the Cherokee was still flying at just over ninety miles per hour. This was now flirting with danger. Eren had no intention of showing any aggression towards his student, but the boy had barely been responsive, and when the kid did finally start thinking for himself, did all the wrong things. What the student was showing was blatant lack of situational awareness and an inability to fly an aircraft.

“I’m…” the student started, but stopped when he realized how close he was to the ground, and how fast he was going. “Shit!”

_Shit indeed! _Eren thought, uncrossing his arms as he prepared to take corrective action.

Fifty feet. The student, finally having processed the fact that he was still much too fast to land, closed the power. A valiant effort, Eren thought, but so close to the ground, the speed wouldn’t bleed off in time. It was like pedaling a bicycle down a hill, stopping the pedaling and expecting the bike to slow down immediately. This kid’s understanding of basic physics was appalling.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the kid pitched the nose down even further.

_What the fuck…_Eren thought, before saying, “Don’t force the plane down! The runway is long, bleed off your speed!”

Those words went in one ear and out of the other. The student maintained the low nose attitude until they were only ten feet above the runway. By now, Eren’s hands were hovering an inch below the control column, eyes frantically taking in every detail of the approach, waiting for the critical point where he would be forced to take control.

“Shit!” the student hissed out, and in a panic, yanked the control column backwards.

The nose of the aircraft quickly pitched up, the movement so abrupt the stall warning shrieked momentarily. Eren’s hand twitched forward, but seeing that they still had more than sufficient airspeed, the experienced instructor opted to give the student one last chance to recover the landing.

A chance the student fucked up.

With the nose high and power on idle, the airspeed quickly bled off. Eren wanted to laugh at how quickly the student noticed the low airspeed compared to being completely unresponsive to a too-high airspeed just seconds earlier. When the stall warning went off, the student panicked. Instinct kicked in, the fatal _we are falling, so pull up_ logic that had gotten many a pilot killed. The boy listened to instinct and not his training – that taught him time and again to push forward to unstall the wings – and needless to say, the situation got very dangerous very quickly.

A stall just a few feet above the runway could easily lead to an accident. It could be fatal.

That was the critical point.

“I have control!” Eren cried out as his right hand grasped the control column and his left hand swatted the student’s hand from the throttle lever and settled around it, quickly but smoothly applying full power. The exchange of command took less than a second.

Eren quickly stabilized the aircraft, talking the student through his actions as he reattempted the landing.

“When ballooning, don’t keep pulling!” he hissed. He flew the aircraft level for just a second, and when he spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. “Stabilize her.” When he was happy that the aircraft was stable, he said, “Alright, now we take it from the top.”

Eren’s calm demeanor and manner of speaking in critical moments was what made him one of the best instructors at the school. He was well-known amongst students to always keep his cool, and the unfortunate few that had seen the loud-mouthed and angsty side of Eren were those that knew the man before the plethora of experience he’d gained. Even Eren boasted about his ever-calm demeanor in a plane…but in this moment, even he was surprised by how calm he was. Despite being somewhere between frightened at another near-incident and livid at his student for being, quite frankly, useless, Eren was still the epitome of tranquility as he pattered his student through his actions.

“Close the power, fly down.” He did just that, descending back down to the runway. “There’s plenty of runway, use it. Into ground effect…round out.” He smoothly transitioned to straight and level, power off. “Just fly her. See, four fingers.” He placed his hand on the dash to illustrate the aircraft position. “Leave her. Let her fly. She sinks, you pull. See?” As if on cue, the aircraft began to lose height, and Eren applied just enough backpressure to stop the sink.

“You need to be patient. Bleed off the speed.” The aircraft continued to float for a moment before it lost enough speed to lose lift, and then it sank again. The instructor pulled the control column back just a fraction.

“Stop the sink, neutralize.” He repeated this process as the aircraft smoothly descended to the runway, nose high, to touchdown on the main gear with a short cry of the stall warning a split-second before touching down. “A flare is the result of a good hold off. It doesn’t just happen on its own.” The main gear was on the runway, but the nose wheel was still in the air. “Hold the backpressure now. Don’t force the nose down.”

The aircraft rolled down the runway for a few seconds on its main gear, before the nose eventually lowered and it settled on the ground. “See, let her land herself. Keep the backpressure.” Eren gestured towards the control column to show the student that he hadn’t pushed the nosewheel down. “She’s too slow to fly now. That is when you let her land.”

The student responded with a nod, but Eren knew that he’d just spoken to a brick wall. With a quiet sigh, he vacated at the end of the runway, on taxiway delta.

“_Alpha Oscar Tango, hold position on delta and contact ground on one-two-zero-decimal-six_.”

“Do the after-landing checks,” Eren instructed his student, before depressing his PTT and reading back his instructions. He greeted the ground controller while the student completed the checks with a proficiency Eren wished the boy could demonstrate in flight.

“_Alpha Oscar Tango, taxi delta, golf, foxtrot, cleared to cross zero-six,_” the controller, whom Eren quickly identified as Hange instructed. Eren promptly read back his instructions. “_Eren?_”

“How’s it, Hange?” Eren said.

“_I see you’ve rediscovered delta._”

Eren laughed. “No gold here.”

“_I’ll put that in the top five longest landings._”

“We’re paying for the whole runway. May as well use it.”

Hange responded with a double click of the PTT, and then Eren turned to his student, who had already begun to taxi the aircraft as per instructions. “Don’t ever let controllers or anyone else put pressure on you on how short to land, okay? When you are cleared to land, that _whole_ runway is yours.”

The student nodded. “That was bad, wasn’t it?” he whispered, voice trembling.

Eren nodded slightly. The years had hardened him, making him impervious to students’ emotional outbursts. Some swore, some cried, others trembled somewhere between sad and angry. Either way, he couldn’t afford to be manipulated by them – he was being paid to teach people to fly, and if he didn’t do it right, people would die. He had to give students the unbridled truth…but even Eren knew that he had to be gentle at times. “We’ll talk about it in the debrief, alright?”

The student nodded and continued to taxi the aircraft back to the hangar.

Back at the hangar, Eren left his student to complete the post-flight paperwork and securing of the aircraft, while he made his way to the computer to fill in the student’s training file. As he walked, he flexed his fingers in preparation of the essay he was about to write detailing the disastrous session. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to wait for one of the computers to become available; the hangar was nearly empty, with most of his colleagues either flying or loitering somewhere out of sight, waiting for the day to end.

“How’s the wind?”

Eren looked up to see Thomas approaching him. Thomas was still the strange, aloof character Eren used to live with, but the man had somewhat normalized over the years. Enough so that he recently qualified as an instructor; the junior was Eren’s mentee.

“Light and variable, two-nine active,” Eren said. “Solo?”

Thomas nodded with a smile. “First consolidation.”

“Ah,” Eren smiled in understanding.

After the initial solo check, the student had to fly three hours of consolidation – a few circuits with the instructor, and then a few circuits on their own – split into three one-hour sessions. This was not only the student’s first flight after the initial solo check, but it was also Thomas’ first time doing a consolidation flight with a student.

“Conditions are pretty good,” Eren said. “The circuit was a bit busy, but I reckon everyone will be on the ground in the next ten minutes or so.”

“Alright!” Thomas took a step away from Eren, but quickly turned back to the senior instructor. “Hey, Eren?”

“Hm?”

“How will I know if he’s okay to go on his own?”

“If he’s safe, he’s fine,” Eren said. “Don’t force it though…if you feel he’s not ready, don’t send him.”

“Sweet,” Thomas said. He smiled awkwardly. “Guess I’ll see you later.”

Eren returned the smile. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.”

The debrief was arduous. Torturous. Hell. Eren had to drag the student back into the classroom to reteach the basic principles of flight, which the student had learnt only weeks ago…and obviously forgotten. He had sent an email to the student’s parents detailing their child’s lack of preparation and subsequent poor performance, and requested to have a meeting with them and the Chief Flying Instructor. The student was less than pleased – in fact, the boy had all but begged Eren with tears in his eyes not to call his parents – but Eren didn’t care. This was an expensive adventure, and the parents had every right to know that their child was wasting their money.

In any event, Eren didn’t need to worry about staying in the student’s good books…the student would be passed off to a new instructor soon.

At just before three in the afternoon, Eren was ready to call it a day, but had no desire to go home. Levi was out of the country on business, which not only meant Eren would be going back to an empty house, but also meant that he had the freedom to hang out with his friends until late without feeling guilty about keeping Levi up. The chances of Eren going home early today were nil.

Eren made his way to the CFI office and plonked down on the chair belonging to the big cheese. No other instructor would dare occupy Hannes’ seat, but Eren couldn’t be bothered; he and Hannes had a long history, and the man would never reprimand him for something so petty. In fact, he never missed and opportunity to tease Eren when he found the instructor in his office.

“Trying to take my job again, Eren?” Hannes asked as he entered his office.

Eren looked up from his phone. He’d been texting Levi, telling the man he would probably be going out with friends tonight. “Nah, I don’t want to have to deal with the shit you have to put up with.”

Hannes laughed. “_You_ are the shit I have to put up with.”

_Sounds like something Levi would say_, Eren thought with a fond smile. “You can’t deny your life would be dull without me.”

“I would still have a full head of luscious blond hair,” Hannes said, running his fingers through his greying hair.

“Don’t blame your bad genetics on me,” Eren said. Both men laughed heartily as Eren reluctantly gave up his seat. He went to sit across the table from Hannes, eyes back on his phone as he replied to Levi.

A moment of silence passed before Hannes spoke. His eyes were glued to the computer screen before him as he said, “So…Nineteen-hundred eh?”

“Yep.”

It was a massive upgrade from what Eren was currently flying – from single and twin-engine piston planes weighting six-thousand pounds at best, to a twin-turbine aircraft at a flirt over seventeen-thousand pounds. To say it was any young pilot’s dream upgrade would be a gross understatement.

“When do you start?” Hannes asked.

“Next Wednesday.”

Hannes paused his typing and turned to Eren, eyes wide. “So…this is your last Friday here?”

“Yep.” Eren grinned. “Monday’s my last day.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hannes said, more to himself than to Eren. A fond smile relaxed his features as he shifted his focus back on the screen.

The two men settled into a comfortable silence as Hannes worked on the computer and Eren texted back and forth with Levi. As the owner of a devastatingly successful weapon’s manufacturer, it went without saying that Levi often had business abroad; sometimes he would be away for weeks at a time. Both men hated the long periods apart, but Eren had to admit that it was nice now and then – it afforded the young pilot the chance to do what young pilots do best: drink until late and be utterly irresponsible fools. With Levi waiting at home, coming home drunk often came with a lecture of some sort, or at least a brief reprimand. Eren knew the man meant well, but it irritated him nonetheless.

Especially now with his time at the school rapidly dwindling, he wanted to have those crazy nights with the others.

As he texted back and forth, Eren thought back to his training days. Hannes had been his instructor; the man was already a Grade Two then, with a fair amount of experience. With no intention of moving onto airlines, Hannes devoted his life to instruction and the odd charter, adamant on making a difference to the quality of flight instruction thanks to his passion for flying and teaching. He was a damn good instructor, and an even better CFI, and Eren was honored to have worked under him for so long. Hannes was the man who inspired Eren to become a better instructor, and Eren worked hard to be labelled the best instructor at the school.

Hannes broke the silence. “Three years, hey?”

“Just about.” Eren found it ironic that their thoughts had been so similar.

“If you weren’t so shit at paperwork, you’d have made a half-decent CGI.”

Chief Ground Instructor – Hannes and Pixis had loosely mentioned the position to Eren, who had vehemently refused, and rightfully so. He was supremely terrible at paperwork.

“This place would’ve burnt to the ground if I was CGI,” Eren said.

Before Hannes could reply, a head appeared in the doorway. Sickeningly sweet floral deodorant invaded Eren’s senses, and he knew who it was before he turned to look. Hitch; she preferred older hairdos and had recently settled on a sixties-bob, which, admittedly, didn’t look too bad on her. While she wasn’t the most trustworthy person – oh, did Hitch love to gossip – she was someone you could always rely on for a good time. Her and Eren had spent one too many nights boozing away.

“We’re going for a drink after work,” she said. “You gonna join?”

Hannes chuckled. “What a question.”

“You make me sound like I’m an alcoholic!” Eren cried out, feigning offence.

“You’re a pilot,” Hitch pointed out with a sly grin.

“Case in point,” Hannes said, his grin equally as mischievous.

Of course Eren wouldn’t say no. Hitch knew this. Just as Eren knew that if he ever asked her, she would never say no. The duo was notorious at the airport for their late nights at the local watering hole, drinking brandy and shooting pool.

“One,” Eren said, glaring at Hitch and raising his index finger. “Only one.”

Hitch’s grin widened and she held up four fingers. “Alright. Just _one_.”

It never ended at just one. Or two. It started at three. Eren would be a fool to think otherwise, and with a sigh, he amended. “I’ll go, but I’m leaving at eight.”

That was a lie, and Eren knew it.

“Whatever you say, Eren!” Hitch said with a wink, before disappearing from the office to gather more people.

Once again, Hannes laughed.

“What have I gotten myself into?” Eren asked himself as he shot Levi a text to let his lover know of his plans.

“The same shit you get yourself into every week, Yeager,” Hannes said, and boy, was he right.

* * *

Eight ‘o clock came and went. Nine. Then ten. What started out as a quiet drink amongst the instructors evolved into a full party – instructors from other schools joined, students rocked up, maintenance engineers, and some guys even had their girlfriends here. Meat was put on the braai outside, the pool table constantly had people playing, and every chair and table in the pub was occupied. Being a Friday, this was not surprising.

It was a quaint little aviation-themed pub. Many of the bar stools and tables were fashioned out of various components of the internal structure of airplane wings. The ashtrays were pistons that had been cut smaller. Propellers, both pristine and ruined from accidents were hung up all over – the latter boasted the date of the accident, the pilot, and what caused it. It went without saying that the propeller from Eren’s mishap wasn’t part of the décor. Instrument panels from vintage aircraft decorated the walls, and there was even an old navigator’s chair from an aircraft that flew in an era gone by. It looked oddly like an old-school barber’s chair, Eren reckoned.

The Wall, as it had later been called, had a knack for locking its patrons in a sanctuary that saw them oblivious to the outside world. With the promise of cheap liquor, a pool table and a braai area, there was no need to consider life outside of the confines of the pub. Time became irrelevant as friendships were forged over drinks, and that was why it was so dangerous to stop at The Wall for ‘just a quick drink’.

Needless to say, by the time the pub was closing, somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, Eren was in no state to drive. He hailed an Uber, sighing as he saw the exorbitant amount being deducted from his account; rather broke than dead, he reckoned.

When the young pilot arrived home, he made his way to the master bedroom with slow, deliberate steps, unbuttoning his shirt lazily as he walked through the house. Home was no longer the humble apartment he’d once shared with Thomas, but rather Levi’s luxurious two-story apartment. Just about two years ago, Levi had finally convinced Eren to move in.

It had been a long negotiation. After dating for only a few months, Levi proposed that Eren move in. The brunet hysterically rejected the idea, terrified of cohabitating with his _lover_ of all people. It made the relationship _too serious_, and in his panic, Eren started mapping out scenarios of Levi proposing to him and making him give up flying to turn him into a househusband. Of course, when Levi called Eren “fucking ridiculous” for entertaining those thoughts, Eren’s true concerns had come out.

Levi was possessive, and irrationally so. Eren feared that living with Levi would make it impossible to have a life of his own. He feared that Levi would become controlling and demand to know Eren’s whereabouts whenever he wasn’t home. As much as it hurt Levi to hear Eren thought that, he couldn’t blame the younger man. He proposed that he would start seeing his therapist again – Eren was very animated in his disdain that Levi hadn’t offered to do this earlier in their relationship – and after a year, there was a marked improvement in Levi’s behavior. Eren eventually relented, and moved in, under one condition: Levi wouldn’t coddle him financially, and would allow him to contribute to the household.

Though his salary was barely a matchstick flame next to the inferno that was Levi’s intangible wealth, Eren did his bit.

Since living together, things improved dramatically. In fact, Levi’s possessiveness had decreased in the years that they had been living together. Knowing that, work-related trips notwithstanding, that he would be in bed with Eren every night really made Levi feel exponentially more secure.

Their relationship had blossomed over the years, and had been going well, but it was not without its hiccups and fights…and boy, did they fight. Nothing was half-assed with Levi, and when they fought, they damn-near ripped each other’s throats out. Levi’s not half-assing things wasn’t all about the fights, but the pleasure as well; years later, and the pair still enjoyed a dynamic sex-life that Eren wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

All things considered, it worked out quite well in the end. Eren was happy that Levi had showed up that bitter cold morning after the crash, and while the man’s methods had been questionable, Eren was glad Levi was as persistent as a cancer in his conquest to claim him.

The brunet smiled at that thought as he stumbled into their bedroom, shirt already unbuttoned and ready to be shed. Even with Levi away, Eren wouldn’t dare leave clothes on the floor, and made a beeline for the bathroom to place his dirty clothes in the hamper and shower. Levi would have his head if he dared rest it on the pristine pillows with his hair reeking of smoke. Eren snorted a curt laugh as he imagined the fit Levi would throw if he were to smell the lingering of ‘fucking pilot debauchery’ on his linen.

“What are you laughing at, brat?”

Eren’s head snapped up at the familiar voice, eyes frantically searching the darkness until he found the source of it. A dark shape that he instantly recognized as Levi was strewn across the bed, and even in the deep darkness, Eren could tell that the man was shirtless. He smiled and retraced his steps to the door to flick on the lights, before he looked back at his lover. His perfect lover who was lying on his back, torso bare, arms tucked behind his head, and sleepy yet sharp eyes focused on Eren as if he were the only thing that existed in the world. Focusing on the man on the bed, the world quickly stopped spinning, and Eren smiled.

“You’re home. I thought you were only coming back next week.” There was a slight slur to Eren’s words, but Levi picked it up. He opted to say nothing about it.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Levi said. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I managed to get my shit done early so I decided to come check if there’s another man in my bed.”

Eren rolled his eyes. Levi’s words, while jesting, held genuine insecurity within them. Eren wouldn’t be surprised if that truly was the reason Levi had headed home without saying anything. Years ago, it would’ve offended or even angered the brunet, but Eren had learnt that it couldn’t be helped. That insecurity was simply a part of who Levi was. Having been a part of Levi’s therapy, Eren had learnt not to take such statements personally. It was not that Levi did not trust him; as the old saying goes, “once bitten, twice shy”. They were constantly working on it, but Levi’s trauma had seemingly reset parts of his mind.

“There’s only one man I want in my bed,” Eren said as he walked towards Levi, coming to stand between Levi’s legs.

Leaning his head back to look up at his lover looming over him, Levi asked, “And who is the lucky bastard?”

“I wonder,” Eren said with a smile, before leaning down to kiss Levi.

Levi did not resist. As soon as Eren’s lips met with his, his arms encircled Eren’s waist possessively as the younger man hungrily attacked his lips. There was no sensuality, no buildup, just the deep hunger of a man deprived. Stripped of his inhibitions, thanks to the alcohol, Eren quickly gave in to the tingling of arousal that sparked within his loins at the mere thought of finally feasting on that which he had been unable to enjoy for weeks. He was quick to push Levi back onto the bed, crawling up the man’s smaller frame and placing his leg between Levi’s. He pressed against Levi’s groin, a little harshly, eliciting a hiss from Levi that Eren mistook for a hiss of pleasure. Still, Levi did nothing to halt Eren’s advances; the taste of alcohol was strong on Eren’s tongue, but it mingles pleasantly with the sweetness of soda, leaving Levi wanting more. He kissed Eren back with a vigor that rivaled the younger man’s, only further exciting him.

With a low moan, Eren began palming at Levi’s groin. Sloppily and uncoordinated, Eren grabbed between Levi’s spread legs in search of his prize. He wanted nothing more than to taste of Levi, to take him, and to come undone at the man’s ministrations.

Even though Eren tasted too sweet to deny, the smell of smoke lingering in his mop of hair assaulted Levi’s nostrils. The man had thought he could push through it, but it became stronger and more heated their kissing became, and eventually, he pushed at Eren’s hips to stop the brunet’s advance. Eren groaned at this, but pulled back nonetheless, glaring at his lover as he silently asked how dare he stop.

“You fucking stink,” Levi said. Eren smiled apologetically and dipped his head in an attempt to kiss the man again, but was rejected when Levi turned his head away and smacked the younger’s ass. “And you’re fucking wasted, aren’t you?”

Eren only offered a shrug in response, before trying again for a kiss.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Yeager,” Levi growled as he lifted his legs and pushed his lover off him.

“Okay, okay,” Eren grumbled, moving off Levi and coming to stand at the foot of the bed with a bit of a stumble. His erection was obvious even in the low light, and the brunet pawed at it with a whine.

“Shower.” Levi pointed at the bathroom.

“Yes, sir,” Eren said with a roll of his eyes. As he waddled to the bathroom, Eren said, “Looks like I’m not getting any tonight.”

“You better not have been planning on _getting any_ in my absence,” Levi said.

Without turning, Eren raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. “I’m perfectly capable without you, honey.”

He did not give Levi a chance to reply, before he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. Levi huffed, a smile playing on his lips as he shook his head. “Horny brat,” the man mumbled, before throwing himself back on the bed.

When Eren re-emerged from the bathroom, Levi was lying with his back towards the bathroom door. Eren knew Levi was not asleep, despite having taken nearly half an hour in the shower. He had made sure to eliminate all traces of the odor of smoke and alcohol, and had taken a few minutes to let the water wash away his inebriation. By the time he was done, he was at least able to stand without swaying, and the world had long since ceased its tumultuous spinning.

“So why did you come home earlier?” Eren asked as he slid into bed beside his lover.

Levi turned around then, giving Eren an eyeful of his body. It was the body of a man committed to his health, with muscles that were toned and firm but not overly so. The only way Eren could describe it was “perfect”, and the shadows of the night made it even more so by enunciating the curves of Levi’s muscles. The younger man forced his eyes to meet Levi’s lest his feasting reawaken his lingering arousal.

“I wasn’t joking when I came to see who you were fucking,” Levi said.

Eren sighed. “You know I won’t go behind your back, Levi.”

“I know.” Levi frowned and moved closer to Eren, and the brunet happily wrapped an arm around Levi’s body. Despite the progress made over the years, Levi was still incredibly self-conscious and quite frankly embarrassed by his behavior sometimes. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, it’s okay,” Eren said.

Levi wanted to say, _It’s not okay_, but that was an argument they’d had too many times. Instead, he just glanced up at his lover and said, “You’re fucking sexy, and a horny brat, so it’d be easy for you to dig up a piece of ass somewhere.”

Eren laughed. “I’m monogamous to a fault…”

“Big word for a drunk brat,” Levi said before Eren could continue.

“Fuck off,” Eren said, shoving the man lightly. “And as for the being horny, I have more than enough shit to entertain myself while you’re away.”

Shaking his head, Levi said, “I can’t believe you got yourself a fucking Fleshlight.”

He had gotten the toy on Armin’s recommendation. That kinky little bastard had suggested Eren make “solo time” more than just a “jerk to cum” affair, and to actually take his time, enjoy it, and explore his body. It seemed like a waste of time at first, but after he’d gotten into it, he had to admit that masturbation had become incredible…and sex with Levi even better. Learning about his own body gave him the confidence to explore Levi’s, and with both men as equally eager to please as they were to be pleased, it went without saying that things had gotten steamier since Eren explored the use of sex toys. Levi would never give Eren the credit, though.

“It feels good,” Eren said with a shrug.

Levi shuddered. “How do you shove your dick into that thing? It’s disgusting.”

“Cleaning it before and after every use, obviously,” Eren said. “How do you shove your dick into my ass? Now _that’s_ disgusting.”

“Don’t remind me,” Levi mumbled.

Eren laughed loudly at this, before silence befell the couple. Levi stayed snuggled in Eren’s arms, head against the brunet’s chest, enjoying Eren’s fingers lightly tracing along his back. It was moments like these that had Levi working himself to the bone on every trip he went on, fighting to get back home so that he could be with his lover. Levi loved cuddles, even though he wouldn’t openly admit it.

“How often do you use it?” Levi suddenly asked.

“When you’re gone?” Eren asked. Levi nodded. “Uhm…every day.”

“You really are such a horny brat.”

Eren chuckled lowly. “Yeah, but I’m _your_ horny brat.” Levi nodded in agreement, before Eren suddenly piped up. “And don’t you dare play all innocent, mister! You’re just as fucking horny as I am!”

“Lies.”

“Oh? Want me to whip out my collection of all the videos you sent me?”

Levi shifted then, moving a little away from Eren so that he could look at his young lover. Propped up on an elbow, guarded greys clashed with zealous greens, Levi asked, “Do you seriously keep them?”

The first one had come as a surprise. It wasn’t long after they had started seeing each other, and Levi had had to travel for business. At the time, Levi travelling was quite the nonevent, since they’d hadn’t been together for too long. Looking back now, Eren wondered if the reason Levi had done it was because he was feeling insecure. Nevertheless, it was quite a pleasant surprise when, after telling Levi he was horny, the man had sent _the video_.

It was random, admittedly. They were on a call, talking about the day. Levi had been away for three days at the time. While talking, Eren’s hand absentmindedly began to play with his flaccid cock, and none too soon, it had grown rigid. Eren admitted to his arousal, and Levi promptly ended the call – at the time, Eren had thought he had pissed Levi off – but barely ten minutes later, Eren got a video of Levi masturbating and cumming. It was the single sexiest thing Eren had ever seen in his life; not only was it his lover’s perfect cock proudly on display, but Levi really went over and beyond the call of duty by moaning tantalizingly and whispering Eren’s name…especially as he came.

Needless to say, Eren could safely count that wank as the fastest he’d ever cum.

After that, many more videos were exchanged. Five years’ worth of videos, in fact.

“Well…” Suddenly, Eren felt embarrassed. What he did not know, however, was whether he was feeling embarrassed by the topic or by the fact that he was starting to get turned on by talking about it.

“You’re such a pervert.”

“You’re just as big a pervert for sending them,” Eren retorted. He could feel the heat of his blush but made no effort to hide it. “Besides…would you rather have me jerk off to videos of you or watch porn?”

A delicate brow raised. “Are you saying you don’t watch porn at all?”

“Hardly,” Eren said. “I have dozens, probably hundreds of photos and videos of you. Why would I want to watch other people fuck when I can enjoy looking at what’s mine?”

Levi grinned. Hearing Eren speaking of him like that went straight to his head…and not the one attached to his shoulders. There was something phenomenally arousing about being addressed in such a primal aspect. Possessiveness was a territorial trait that had nothing to do with rationality, but pure instinct. To feel desired on that level, to have someone feel possessive over him because of that primal drive to own him, was an astronomical turn on for Levi. It was something that showed the attraction ran deeper than intellect or cognition, that the attraction and desire, that the _bond_ was animalistic. It meant that what they had could be stripped down the very core, that even if they were brain dead, their bodies would feel that need.

Being someone who had struggled with his primal nature, simply because he embraced it – often to a fault, where his behavior was sometimes socially unacceptable – this feeling was profound. To have it reciprocated was an aphrodisiac.

“God dammit,” Levi said, grinning, “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too,” Eren said. As he shifted closer to Levi to steal a kiss, he felt Levi’s arousal pressing against him. It was not fully hard, but it was definitely growing. Eren smirked. “It looks like I _am_ gonna get some tonight.”

Levi chuckled, his voice a deep rumble as he nipped at Eren’s lip. “Well, lucky me.”


	2. Overdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I am pleased by the response on the first chapter! Thank you all for showing interest and for the support as we start this journey!
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter.

Eren woke that Saturday morning in an incredibly good mood despite the mild hangover; with a headache threatening at the edges of his consciousness and a tender stomach that would only escalate if it stayed empty, Eren knew that a good, greasy breakfast, a liter of water and two painkillers would have him right as rain in no time. He counted himself lucky that he’d sobered up as much as he did before going to sleep, otherwise he would be feeling a hell of a lot worse. The exertion of his early-morning tryst with Levi did wonders to help work some of the alcohol out of his system.

Smiling at the foggy memories of his and Levi’s lovemaking, Eren sat up in their bed and found a bottle of water and two painkillers waiting for him on his bedside table. His smile only widened at the sight. It was no secret that Levi detested Eren’s nights out with his pilot friends, because the young man would almost always come home drunk. Levi felt no sympathy for Eren’s pain when he was hungover, and more often than not refused to aid him in any way. The fact that painkillers and water sat waiting on the bedside table showed Eren that Levi appreciated what had transpired between them before the world woke.

Eren would be lying if he said he remembered exactly what had happened. He and Levi had made love. The details were sketchy, Eren’s inebriated mind not caring to remember the fine print when Levi’s cock inside him was all he cared about. What he did remember, though, was that Levi had eaten him out like a five-dollar buffet…with Eren fresh out the shower, Levi couldn’t keep his hands, tongue and fingers out of Eren.

A huff of a laugh passed Eren’s lips as he swallowed the painkillers. All he had to do to bend Levi to his will was make sure he was exceptionally clean from head to toe, and the man would ravish him, inhibitions be damned.

After chugging half the bottle of water, still recounting bits and pieces of his tryst – legs thrown over Levi’s shoulders, body bent nearly in half, cumming on his own face (Eren cringed a little at that one) – he eventually hauled himself out of bed. His memories had given him a semi, but with him still not being out of the woods with the hangover, Eren opted to ignore it.

Unsurprised to find the bed empty, Eren made for the shower.

Years ago, he would’ve been content with laying in bed, or on the couch, in his pajamas the entire day without showering. With nothing to do and a hangover to battle, why would he need to make himself presentable? Levi, that was why; the man detested sloppiness, and very early on in their relationship laid down two non-negotiable ground rules:

Before leaving the room, make sure the bed is made; and

Before leaving the house, be washed and presentable.

Eren found it stupid (especially the first rule) but years later had found out that it came from Levi’s background not only as a pedantic perfectionist, but also from his days in the military. He didn’t speak of them much at all, but Eren respected it. With that, he’d grown into the second rule, belatedly realizing that Levi had stints where he was the focus of the public eye, and had to be presentable for those moments. After all, he was known as a warmonger.

After a particularly refreshing shower and a shave, Eren made their bed to military standards, which Levi had taught him. While Levi never explicitly expected crease-free beds (as long as it was neat, he was happy), Eren made the effort to do it, and Levi appreciated it a lot more than he let on. He wouldn’t admit it, but he liked the little ritual.

Once the room was tidy, Eren’s headache was a thing of the past, and all he had to do was feed himself.

Sauntering downstairs to the kitchen dressed in a tracksuit pants and a T-shirt, Eren contemplated what cholesterol-fest he would kill himself with this morning. He debated between bacon, pork ribs, lamb chops and spicy chicken winglets…the greasier, the better. A side of fries would be great as well, but Eren quickly shook that thought. It would be too much work, unless he used the air-fryer, which defeated the whole purposes.

When he got to the kitchen, however, all deliberation was for naught. Waiting for him was a covered plate of food and a note.

“Huh,” Eren said as he picked up the note to read it. Whatever he’d done to Levi last night had to have been beyond incredible for Levi to have gotten him water, painkillers, _and _breakfast.

_My Brat_

_Take some painkillers, eat a good breakfast and keep hydrated. I’ll be at work till about 14:00._

_Love You._

_PS Don’t forget to wash the dishes._

“I won’t, dickface,” Eren mumbled as he lifted the cover on the plate.

Grease galore! Scrambled eggs, bacon, pork sausages, mushrooms and fried tomatoes were stacked onto the plate, making Eren salivate at the mere sight of it. Even though he wasn’t particularly fond of fried tomatoes, Levi insisted he eat it in the interest of a healthy prostate.

He did it to appease his lover.

After heating up his food, brewing a pot of coffee and making three slices of toast, Eren sat down to check his phone. He had dozens of unread messages – not surprising considering the night he had – but only read the one from Levi.

** _Levi (08:50): I couldn’t wait any longer for your hungover ass to wake up. I made some breakfast. See you later._ **

It was now just after twelve. He texted Levi to say thanks for the _amazing_ breakfast (that he’d practically inhaled), before going through the rest of his messages. All but one warranted a reply; Armin asking to confirm their plans for the weekend.

Too lazy to type, Eren just gave his friend a call.

“_Hey, Eren!_” Armin answered, chipper as usual.

“Hey,” Eren replied. “How you doing?”

“_Good!_” Before Eren could say anything, Armin continued. “_Erwin and I went to the farmer’s market this morning. They have so many different honeys there! You should get some for Levi, he might like it in his tea._”

Farmers market meant early mornings. Armin had been trying to get Eren to go with him for years, but Eren always had an excuse. Whether it was because he was working or had a hangover, or simply wanted to spend the morning in bed with Levi, Eren simply refused to commit to the 07:30 adventure on a Saturday morning. Armin never gave up hope, and asked every other week anyway.

“Or you could just get it for me,” Eren suggested.

Armin laughed. “_For a pilot, you sure are lazy._”

“I like my Saturdays lazy, not fucking around a crowded market.”

“_The food is really good, though._”

That was one thing that tempted the brunet to sacrifice just one morning. He’d heard that the market sold all sorts of food and sweet treats that weren’t commonly found at grocers and fast-food outlets in the city. Though as tempted as he was, he still hadn’t gone.

“One day, Ar,” Eren said with a smile. “Hey uh, we never really made any solid plans for today.”

“_I know!_” Armin cried out, and Eren shut his eyes as he felt the inevitable lecture coming. If there was one thing Armin hated, it was last-minute planning. “_I’ve been trying to get you to tell me when you’re available since Monday, Eren! I messaged you every day and you always said you’re busy and you’ll let me know. Well, here we are, on the day of, with no plans._”

For a moment Eren wondered how the hell he’d been best friends with this melodramatic queen for as long as he had.

“I really have been busy,” Eren said. “It was my last week at the school, so I had to finish up student transfers and sort out my paperwork.”

A long moment of silence followed, before Armin said, “_Oh._”

It was no secret that Eren was a certifiable disaster when it came to paperwork. The first thing Pixis had said to him after he’d handed in his resignation was that if he thought the paperwork was going to be less at his new job, he had another thing coming. Eren couldn’t tell if the man was joking or not, but took it with a pinch of salt.

“And Levi came back last night,” Eren added.

“_I thought he was only coming back next week._”

“They finished early, I guess. I haven’t really asked him about his trip yet. He’s at the office today.”

“_That man just doesn’t stop, does he?_” Armin mused.

“Never,” Eren deadpanned. That was a can of worms he was not in the mood to open up right now. “So, back to the point. If Erwin wants to join, he can.”

“_If Levi comes. Wherever it is we are going._”

Eren laughed. “Do you feel like going out or staying in?”

“_If Erwin’s joining, I think staying in would be better._”

The two went on to make plans for the night. Erwin and Armin, as well as Mikasa and Jean would come over and the three couples would get some pizza and have a relaxing evening enjoying the last of the autumn warmth. Now all Eren had to do was convince Levi to join them, which he was sure wouldn’t be too difficult since Erwin would be there.

“_Cool, so see you at six?_”

“Yep,” Eren said.

“_I’ll let Mika know. Bye-bye!_”

“Cheers, Ar.”

After hanging up the call, Eren washed the dishes. While doing that, he wondered why the hell Levi had to go into work on a Saturday, just a day after returning from a business trip. Surely, a normal person would want at least a day off after travelling all day. After being away from home for two weeks, any sane person would just want to spend a day or two getting back into the swing of things. Especially if they could afford to do so, which Levi could, because he was his own damn boss.

Had Eren been any less secure, he would’ve conjured up scenarios where Levi was running off with other men behind his back. To entertain that thought would be ludicrous; if Eren ever thought he was monogamous to a fault, Levi had it encoded in his DNA. The man truly did just love to work, and often worked himself to the point of exhaustion.

Being the owner of Colossus had its perks – innumerable wealth, and often an abundance of free time, since there was someone being paid to do everything Levi might need to do. But just as it had its perks, it also had its disadvantages, the prime one being that Levi’s schedule could change drastically in a very short period of time. With Colossus in the heat of negotiations with several aeronautical engineering firms to procure a place in the airborne weapons industry, Levi had been travelling a lot more than usual and working unimaginable hours to make his dream a reality.

Colossus had proven itself throughout the decades in terrestrial weaponry – from small arms to missiles, and even armored vehicles – but the company had never specialized in maritime or aeronautical weaponry. With the world now hungrier than ever for weapons of mass destruction that kept soldiers as far away from the frontlines as possible, and with UAVs now all the rage in warfare, Levi knew it would be criminal to not enter the aviation sector with his weapons.

Eren detested the idea. A bomb dropped from a plane could kill hundreds more people than a platoon of soldiers. Airstrikes claimed thousands of civilian lives worldwide, and Eren did not want Levi to be a part of that.

Levi simply said: _If I don’t do it, someone else will. I’d hate to see someone get rich off something I could do better._

It was probably nothing more than the ideals of a young, naïve mind, but Eren felt as though all the money Levi made was blood money. People died because of products he not only approved and sold, but sought to improve. Eren had wished, on countless occasions, that Levi had rather been heading an accounting or medical firm, but unfortunately, weaponry was Levi’s bread and butter and war was his business. The only consolation he could offer Eren was that his company was very involved in counter-terrorism and was as aggressive in manufacturing and distributing implements to protect and even destroy weapons, as it was in the manufacture and distribution of weapons themselves.

Not knowing much about weapons, politics or business, Eren simply opted to turn a blind eye to Levi’s business.

Besides, Levi had confessed that he was only a billionaire in net worth by a fraction, and didn’t even make the country’s top ten. A large portion of his wealth went to various charities – no one was more shocked to learn this than Eren – and he only wanted to keep his billionaire status because “I get taxed out of my ass and my exorbitant taxes goes straight back to Eldia”, which Eren found strangely noble. Colossus’ net worth, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

By the time Eren was done tidying up the kitchen, it was well after one. Even though Levi said he’d be back around two, Eren knew the man would likely be home at any minute. He plonked down in front of the TV and skimmed through the channels. Everything was a rerun of something that he’d either seen or that had been on TV for years, and as Eren skipped through everything from movies and series to documentaries and music, he wondered why the hell Levi still insisted on paying for the full bouquet when there was nothing to watch. In any event, streaming was the in-thing, but Levi had no interest in that. All the man used his TV for was watching the news and listening to music, if even that.

Eren had barely made it to the news channels at the tail end of the bouguet when he heard Levi. Or rather, heard the heels of Levi’s shoes clacking against the laminated wooden floor of their home.

Why Levi insisted on wearing such dramatic shoes, Eren could only guess – he teased the man hundreds of times in saying that because he was so small, he needed to use any and all means to make his presence larger. To say Levi did not appreciate that would be a gross understatement. Nevertheless, Eren relented in his thoughts, keeping them to himself.

“Hey,” Eren said as he saw Levi’s reflection in the momentary blackness of the TV screen as he flicked to yet another channel.

“How are you feeling?” Levi asked. He came to stand behind the couch Eren was sitting on.

Eren turned in his seat to answer Levi, and when he caught an eyeful of his lover, his jaw went slack. The older man always dressed impeccably, whether it was casualwear or workwear, and no matter what he wore, even if it was a plain old shirt, it always looked good. Today he was wearing a white long-sleeve button-up shirt, tucked neatly into form-fitting black trousers that made him look a few inches taller. The dress shoes he wore were polished so cleanly they looked brand new, and the same could be said for his belt. His left wrist boasted a Breitling timepiece that cost more than Eren’s car, something Levi usually only wore when he was mingling with the top dogs in business.

Levi looked every inch the powerful businessman that he was, and it was doing things to the brunet.

“Oi, eyes up here,” Levi said with a snap of his fingers.

Eren smiled coyly. “Can’t I enjoy the view? You look nice today.”

“I look nice every day,” Levi retorted.

_Nothing wrong with that ego, _Eren thought with a roll of his eyes, before turning his attention back to the TV. _But he’s not wrong._

“You going to answer my question?” Levi asked.

“Oh,” Eren said, tilting his head back to look at Levi. “I’m feeling fine. Woke up a little tender but nothing some water, painkillers, and an awesome breakfast made by my wonderful boyfriend can’t sort out."

Levi smirked and shook his head before ruffling Eren’s hair like a pup. “You’re such a suck up.”

“You like it when I suck,” Eren mumbled, to which Levi only responded with a quirked brow. “Seriously though, thank you. That was sweet of you.”

Instead of respond, Levi ruffled Eren’s hair once more before nodding and walking off. The younger man watched his lover disappear upstairs to their bedroom, smiling fondly as he thought just how strange it was that even after five years, Levi still wasn’t sure how to respond to compliments, even if he’d gone out of his way to deserve them.

When Levi re-emerged from the bedroom, he was dressed more casually; a tracksuit pants and a V-neck shirt. Had Eren been paying him more mind, he would’ve cried bloody murder at the fact that the man could still look so good and poised in such simple clothes, completely oblivious to just how good he looked wearing similar dress. Instead, Eren’s attention was fixated on the TV. On the news.

It was strange to find Eren watching the news. In many ways, Eren had matured quite a bit, thanks to his work – he had learnt patience, humility, learnt a great deal of people-skills, and learnt how to overcome unpleasant situations without running his mouth – but in more ways than that, he was still just a mid-twenties brat. He liked to drink and party, his work was more of a fraternity than anything else, he liked pulling stupid pranks on people without always thinking of the consequences of his actions (which had landed him in a hell of a lot of hot water both with his friends and at work), and he was laid-back and easy-going. He wasn’t interested in global politics, commodities’ trading prices, stock markets and international news. His interest in the news started and stopped at what was happening in Karanese…and global aviation news, but even that interest was limited to mostly accidents and incidents. Eren did not care for the news, yet here he sat watching it, giving it his undivided attention.

And it wasn’t the first time.

Over the last few weeks, Eren had been expressing more interest in global affairs, particularly conflict. At first, Levi thought Eren had had a miraculous change in heart and had finally started showing interest in the things that affected his life and his business – watching the news with him, and asking him questions about exchange rates, market trends and even politics – but the more he looked at it, the more it became apparent that that wasn’t the case.

When Eren first mentioned the new job, Levi was ecstatic. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity: Wings Aviation would pay for his rating and second him to a company where he could build the required two-hundred turbine hours to make minimum requirements for WA, and then he would be taken in by them. That would put Eren on the Boeing 737-800, inarguably Eren’s favorite commercial aircraft, within a year.

However, when the details of the job became clearer, Levi’s jubilation quickly gave way to hesitation, and then outright rejection. The company Eren would be seconded to was Titan, Eldia’s leader in operations in hostile areas. They sent pilots and aircraft everywhere from war-torn countries to regions devastated by natural disasters, flying missions for relief, medical, or even military.

It was then that Levi realized Eren’s sudden interest in what was happening in the world wasn’t because he cared, but because it would soon affect him.

At first, Levi hoped that Titan had in-country charter operations that Eren would get posted on, but he quickly learnt that those contracts required experienced pilots. As a matter of fact, Titan only had one contract where the client was willing to accept low and no-hour pilots, and that was a contract in Marley. While it was not a military contract, it was still one that operated in one of the most unstable regions in the world. In fact, latest global safety rankings put Marley as the most dangerous country in the world, citing war, terrorism, extremism and the frequent kidnapping of expats as causes of major concern.

When Levi learnt this, he was livid. The fight he and Eren had that day would go down as the worst they’d ever had, and it was never resolved. Whenever Levi brought it up, Eren would say the same thing – he knew the risks, but he wanted the job. It was an opportunity he couldn’t let slip (something Levi was acutely aware of). He insisted that it wasn’t as bad for civilian contracted pilots, something he’d heard from another cadet. Levi, of course, wanted to hear nothing of it, and the fights continued. When Eren later showed no interest in discussing the topic any further, Levi turned his wrath on Erwin. And then Rico. He lashed out at everyone responsible for putting Eren in this position, but it was all for naught.

Eren wanted to go, and if there was one thing Levi had learnt about his lover, was that if Eren wanted something, that man would stop at nothing to get it.

The story headlining at the moment was that of an assassination of one of the electoral candidates in Marley. The country was four months away from a national election, and the running for presidency in the unstable, war-stricken region were fierce. Two candidates had been assassinated in the last two weeks alone, the most recent being just this morning.

To Levi, the outcome of the elections affected his business. To Eren, the outcome of the election affected his life.

Two of the favorites had vastly differing ideals. The one man wanted to bring peace to the country that had been at war for decades. He wanted to open his ports to other nations and allow foreign investors to rejuvenate their economy. The other candidate wanted all foreigners out. He believed that Marleyans would solve Marley’s problems, and he detested all those who interfered.

If the latter came into power, Colossus may lose business, but Eren would lose asylum.

Levi sighed, his harsh breath catching Eren’s attention. The brunet turned to face Levi, muting the TV and smiling up at his lover like a kid who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, but it didn’t take long for Eren to know exactly what was going on in Levi’s mind. He’d seen that look dozens of times – deep fury, resignation, frustration – and it was always about the same thing: his job. He never had the energy to argue about it, because he found it futile to argue against something that wouldn’t change, but he also knew that he and Levi would have to break this impasse someday.

With the time ticking down to the date of his deployment, Eren knew he had to tackle the situation head-on.

“Levi…” Eren started, but before he could say another word, Levi pounced as if he were waiting for this moment.

“I don’t want you going to Titan,” Levi said. His voice was firm, angry even, but the undertones of desperation were clear to the brunet.

It pained Eren to hear Levi like that. Levi was a proud man, and having been in the cutthroat corporate world for most of his adult life, knew how to hold his own. To have him show desperation, even if only in the way he spoke, broke Eren’s heart. To know Levi was like that because of him, and the choices he’d made, was devastating, but the young pilot would relent. He’d made his bed, and he was going to sleep in it; even though he knew it was selfish to keep putting Levi through this, he was not going to change his mind.

When it came to flying, Eren was selfish. Nothing came before aviation, not even Levi, and the man knew that.

“I don’t want you going to Marley,” Levi whispered, and in that moment, the desperation that had just leaked into his voice finally showed in his eyes.

When green and grey met, Eren was confronted with a man standing before an unthinkable force, about to lose everything he had. Had Levi not been a man who could reign in his emotions, he would’ve likely been borderline hysterical. Hell, he was, he just hid it well. Even though he was moments away from throwing himself to his knees to beg Eren to reconsider the job, he held his own…as much as he could. Pain and desperation darkened his eyes, and after a few seconds of looking into the eyes of his younger lover – eyes that showed pity for his plight but no intention of aiding it – he averted his gaze.

“I might not get posted there,” Eren said softly, knowing it was a lie. A hope, perhaps, but a lie nonetheless.

“You _will_ get posted there,” Levi countered harshly. “You and I both know that the contract in Marley is the only one that accept pilots with zero hours on type.”

Eren cussed under his breath. Yes, he knew that, but he’d hoped that that information wasn’t available to Levi. Hah, who was he kidding? The entire program was being run by Erwin Smith, Levi’s best friend and confidante, and Titan’s involvement was the handiwork of the woman Levi once intended on marrying. All Levi had to do was snap his fingers and he’d have access to information that even Eren wouldn’t be able to get. Hell, the man probably knew more about the working conditions of Titan pilots in Marley than Eren did.

“Don’t go, Eren.”

Levi’s gaze was locked on the TV, where statistics from the last six months of armed conflict in Marley were currently being shown – deaths, both military and civilian, ran in the hundreds. Eren glanced at the TV, but quickly turned back to Levi; he didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see the numbers, because he knew they were exorbitant. Yet when he turned back, the pain in Levi’s eyes immediately had the brunet avert his gaze, but even though he couldn’t look Levi in the eye, he still found that he felt no guilt. No shame.

He wondered if he was a bad person for that.

“You can’t go to a place like that,” Levi continued softly, pointing at the TV.

Hearing Levi speak like this, _seeing_ him so wrought with desperation, hurt Eren in ways he never knew he could experience pain. His gut twisted painfully as his heart dropped into some abyss he never knew he embodied, and soon his eyes fell shut. He pinched his lids together, breathing deeply, fighting off the image of Levi’s pain that had imprinted itself in his mind. Pain he had caused, pain he had the power to heal, but no care to do so.

Maybe he was a bad person.

“Levi,” Eren started, forcing his eyes open and balling his hands into fists as he steeled himself for the conversation to come. It had to be done. “Please try and understand…”

“Understand what?” Levi cried out, voice cracking. That voice crack was like a whip across Eren’s back; he flinched at the sound of it. “That you _want_ to go work in a place like that?” Levi continued, gesturing at the TV with muscles taut in his arm. “That you _want_ to go fuck around in a godforsaken, war-torn shithole? That you _want _to put yourself in harm’s way? What exactly is there to understand, Eren, because _that_,” Levi shook his head, hand finally falling to his side, “I just cannot wrap my fucking mind around.”

A heavy silence befell them. The TV lit up then as an explosion filled the screen. A bright orange ball of flames preceded a thick black cloud, and only moments after, statistics for civilian casualties suffered during a Hizuru airstrike on a weapon’s depot popped up on the screen. Neither Eren nor Levi paid it any mind.

“That country is not safe,” Levi said quietly. “Foreigners get kidnapped, they get murdered there. They get made examples of by a people that are so fucking sick of foreign intervention that they’d go to war if they had half the chance. They hate Eldia, Eren. They hate Eldians.”

There was so much that Eren wanted to say, but he held his tongue. He bit down on it lest it betray him. Levi was in the business of war, and had served in the military as a young man. It was understandable that he didn’t want Eren going there, and Eren had to respect that. But then again, what Levi knew of war was not what Eren would be exposed to. He wasn’t going there to play soldier.

Taking a deep breath, Eren eventually spoke. “I am there to fly, Levi. I’m flying for an airline, doing scheduled flights, flying cargo and charters, and the occasional medevac. I’m not going to be in the thick of _that_.” Eren pointed at the TV without looking at it. “I’m not going to be on the frontlines! I’m going to be flying my fucking plane and minding my own damn business, far away from the fucking war.”

Eren wasn’t a simpleton. He knew that there were risks, but he also knew that Titan had never had an incident that implicated a flight crew in the history of their operations in hostile areas. Close calls? Yeah, plenty, but no deaths, no kidnappings. In fact, only one other Eldian company ever had an incident, and that was more than a decade ago in Ragako – a crew bus carrying nine pilots and three engineers was shot with an RPG after being mistaken for a Mid-East Alliance bus, killing all on board. The crew were on their way to the airport to return home to Eldia following a nine-week tour.

“Titan has very strict protocols in place for operating there,” Eren continued. “They know what to do. Most of the airfields are secure, and those that aren’t…well, like I said, protocols. All possibilities have been considered and their security is epic. They look after their crew.”

There was no response from Levi, so Eren continued.

“The experience I’ll get from this will be second to none.”

Levi’s tone was frigid when he replied. “Experience means nothing if you’re dead.”

“I won’t die,” Eren responded, tone equally as biting.

As if he hadn’t heard Eren, Levi simply asked, “Why?”

That single question deflated the brunet. He was so tired of rehashing the facts that he found himself wishing he’d recorded their last argument so that he could just play it back to Levi.

“Challenging airstrips, a constantly changing operational environment within the structure of standard operating procedures, a mid-sized twin-turbine aircraft…do I need to go on?"

A tense moment of silence passed before Levi eventually lifted his gaze to meet Eren’s. It looked like he’d been crying, and that sight hit Eren in the gut like a battering ram. His breath hitched as he took the sight before him – his strong Levi, reduced to a man begging, wrought with despair and a slave to desperation. Eren swallowed thickly, forcing himself to hold Levi’s gaze despite everything within him wanting to look away.

_You did this, it’s your fault, _a voice in Eren’s mind chided him.

“I need the hours, Levi,” Eren whispered, voice weak under the weight of his lover’s pain. “I need multi-turbine time else I’ll never get into the airlines. With my hours it’s impossible to get other work, and trust me, I’ve tried. I have too many instructor hours…I’m seen as useless to the operational world.”

“Then work for me,” Levi said. Eren frowned. “Colossus has an Embraer and two Citations in Eldia…I could get you a job on one of them.”

“I’m not jet-rated, Levi,” Eren said.

“I’ll pay for your rating! For fuck’s sakes, Eren, I can get you the hours you need for fucking Wings Aviation without you needing to go to that shithole!”

It would be a lie to say that Eren wasn’t tempted by the offer, and it wasn’t the first time Levi had offered. The Embraer 120 was bigger than the Beechcraft 1900D, and it would be more beneficial for Eren to have time on that aircraft. Nevertheless, Eren didn’t want a job he knew he would never get if he hadn’t worked for it – even though the old adage “it’s not what you know, but who you know” rang frightfully true in aviation, Eren’s pride wouldn’t let him take the handout.

He also _wanted_ to experience parts of the world that most people would never get to see, and he _wanted _to fly the Nineteen-hundred. It was not the prettiest plane of the lot, but operationally it was a pleasure to fly, and a very forgiving aircraft. The one in Marley had no autopilot, promising Eren hundreds of hours of hand-on flying, something that the young pilot wanted, and needed, more than anything.

“I want to do this,” Eren said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Don’t make me go back on what I’ve already signed for.”

Levi opened his mouth to retort, to say that the contract meant nothing and that he’d sort it out, but it would be for naught. Eren’s mind was already made up, and Levi had begun to realize that no matter what he did, Eren was set on his choice. It was truly futile to even attempt to argue any further, and Levi had nothing more to offer Eren as incentive. The situation left Levi feeling powerless, and if there was one thing Levi detested, it was knowing things were out of his control.

The man took a deep breath and nodded. He wondered if what he was feeling was acceptance. Did the Kubler-Ross model apply here? He’d experienced denial, anger, bargaining and depression…and now this. Acceptance.

Without saying anything further, Levi turned and walked away, making his way upstairs to the bedroom. Eren watched wordlessly as Levi left, no temptation to call out to the man whatsoever. Levi’s quiet departure gave Eren a small sense of victory, but that pride was soured with the sneering thoughts of how damn unfair he was being. Yet despite it all, he still felt no guilt, and that bothered him.

Was he really so heartless? Eren had said on hundreds of occasions in the past that flying came first. He would do whatever he had to, make whatever sacrifices he needed to, to keep himself in the air and to progress. If it called for him to move, if it took him away from his friends, and even if it became the reason he lost Levi, he would do it. Flying had cost him so much and he would be damned if he ever half-assed it.

Some called it blind ambition. Eren knew it was just plain selfishness.

Needless to say, his pleasant mood from earlier was no more.

Eren grabbed his phone and texted Armin, saying it would be better if they hung out somewhere else for the night. Just as he was about to hit send, he reread the message a few times, eyes darting to the foot of the stairs. A part of him knew that the right thing to do would be to cancel his plans and spend the night with Levi, to talk things through now that both of them were calm. Another part of Eren knew that Levi needed some time alone. With a sigh, Eren sent the message, reckoning that if Levi needed space, he would take that time to see his friends.

At the very least, he promised himself he wouldn’t come home late. Or drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When writing this chapter, it didn't quite go where I wanted it to, but this was a conversation they had to have. Fear not, all will be well!
> 
> OS


	3. Friends

A productive Saturday morning passed, and after glancing at this phone and seeing the time at 14:55, Armin decided to call it a day. He shut his Obstetrics and Gynecology textbook with a purposeful slap of his hand as if to say he would not touch it again today. After all, he’d been up since six that morning, preparing for the practicals that would be starting in the new week. He was sure that he’d prepared enough – notwithstanding the three short breaks he took, he’d been at it for nearly nine hours. Even if he did try to push on, his tired mind would probably be incapable of absorbing any information. Yes, calling it a day now was for the best, Armin reckoned.

He wondered if he was bargaining with himself, feeling guilty that he could still study for another two hours before meeting his friends.

“No,” Armin said, shooting out of his chair. “I’ve done enough.”

It was something of a weakness, he thought, that his mind saw time not as a construct but as the potential to complete tasks. Hours were not in place to dictate mealtimes or other events, but rather an availability to achieve things. One hour to exercise. Three hours of studying. A few hours a day each week of lectures and practicals. Ten minutes for each meal. Armin sought to capitalize on every moment of every day, so that he could complete as much work each day so that he could keep his academics high enough to hold onto his scholarship, without working himself to exhaustion. The thing he hated about that mentality, though, was the fact that whenever he had free time – be it from having no classes or the rare occasion where he had nothing to prepare for – he felt guilty. He felt like he was wasting time, burning daylight, if you will. Erwin commended it, and often joked that if Armin were a businessman, he’d be incredibly successful.

Packing up his books, notepad and stationery, Armin was sure to leave his study in an impeccable state. Not only could he not work when surrounded by a mess, but he also took great pride in the space Erwin had given him. It was a small study that used to be a guest bedroom with a single bed. Now, it had one simple desk that housed several drawers, and a bookshelf against the one wall that held all the books he’d ever used from day one. There was one painting on the opposite wall, a painting of rough seas with small sailboat being consumed. At first, he thought the dramatic painting would be a distraction, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to take it down, since it was there when he inhabited the room. It proved to be nothing of the sort, and now Armin barely even noticed it hanging there.

Armin moved in with Erwin some time before Eren moved in with Levi – Levi would never admit it, but Armin was sure his own move with Erwin incited a deep jealousy within Levi, since barely weeks after the move the businessman was very aggressively suggesting that Eren move in with him. It had been hilarious, at the time, hearing Erwin rehash Levi’s desperate attempts to get Eren to move in with him while Armin told stories of Eren’s reluctance. Unlike Armin, Eren had a decent apartment and wasn’t inclined to leave it. Eventually, Eren gave in, and warned Armin that if he and Erwin got engaged before he and Levi, there better not be a repeat of that ridiculous peer-pressure stunt.

Little did Eren know that such talks had already been had between the two blonds.

Just as Armin packed away the last of his things, his phone chimed. He was expecting a response from Erwin after suggesting they all meet up at Levi and Eren’s place, since Erwin was out for golf with some friends. Looking at the time, Armin reckoned Erwin would be back within the next hour – his golf days usually ended with lunch and drinks, but the man would only do that on weekends when Armin was busy studying, which, incidentally, was most weekends.

He was a little surprised to see a message from Eren.

** _Eren (15:15): Levi’s not keen for tonight. Let’s try Mika’s? Or go out somewhere._ **

Armin’s brows drew together as he read the message. While it seemed perfectly inconspicuous, he knew something was amiss. Not only was the tone of the text unlike Eren, but it was strange that Eren would want to change the venue on account of Levi. There had been times when Levi wasn’t home, or was home and too tired to join, and the group of friends would busy themselves elsewhere in the house or in the garden so as to not bother the man. It seemed like Eren wanted to get out of the house, and get away from Levi.

“Hmm,” Armin hummed, as he replied to the message.

** _Armin (15:17): Sure. Let me give her a call._ **

While searching for Mikasa’s contact, Armin’s fingers idly ran through his hair. It was a lot shorter than he would have liked it, no thanks to the hairdresser’s zealousness. It would be at least another month before he needed his hair cut again, with it now being so short he looked like a schoolboy. It wasn’t all that bad, Erwin said, but Armin didn’t like it. He at least liked to be able to tie his hair into a ponytail, even if it was a short, poor excuse for one.

Hitting the call button, Armin made his way to the bedroom and stripped off his shirt. A shower was in order before the night, even if only to wash away the academic filth that seemed to be clinging to his skin. Obs and Gynae was thus far his least favorite module in his course. While the dial tone hummed in his ear, Armin opened his cupboard and stood before his mirror shirtless. While he was far from what he would consider sexy, he supposed he wasn’t too hard on the eye. He frowned, wondering if he was starting to pick up weight. It had been weeks since he’d last had any consistent form of exercise.

“_Armin,_” Mikasa said as she answered the phone. “_How are you?_”

Pinching a miniscule amount of fat around his midsection, Armin replied, “I’m getting fat.”

“_You called me to tell you you’re getting fat?_” Amusement was evident in her voice.

“No,” Armin said, pouting. He turned a little, poking at his hips in search of non-existent love-handles. “I’m actually calling about tonight.” He turned back to face the mirror straight on, putting a hand on his hip as he cocked his head to the side. _Am I getting fat?_

“_You better not be ditching…_” Mikasa said.

“No,” Armin mumbled, distracted by the image in the mirror.

A lot had changed as he grew from an adolescent to a man. He was a little taller, though not by much but by just enough for Erwin to point out that he was now taller than Levi…by a glorious three centimeters (they’d discovered this after Eren insist they measure to be sure). His shoulders were broader, and while he still had a slender body, it was more masculine than when he was younger. While he didn’t have a six-pack, v-lines or even a dip in his chest between his pecs, he didn’t think he looked too bad. A textbook twink, perhaps, but not too bad at all.

He flexed his bicep, pleased to find that there was still a little line in the muscle.

“Actually,” Armin continued, forcing himself to look into his own eyes (_how conceited, _he thought), “I wanted to know if we can hang at your place tonight.”

“_I thought we were going to Eren’s._”

The thought of Erwin crossed Armin’s mind then. Even he was no longer in the same shape that he was in when they first met. Now in his mid-thirties and no longer as active as he used to be, Erwin’s once toned six-pack was now no more than a semi-defined ab-crack. Perhaps that was just how things worked in life, Armin mused. Admittedly, Erwin’s slow growth into a slightly more “dad-bod” figure was sexy. Dad-bod was in this season, after all.

And as long as Erwin still found him sexy, the little bump on his midsection was forgivable.

“Hmm…”

Mikasa sighed. “_Armin, what are you doing? Focus._”

“Oh!” He quickly turned away from the mirror then, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Uh, nothing. Where was I? Oh, your place.”

Instead of pry, Mikasa just asked, “_Why not Eren’s?_”

“Levi’s not in the mood,” Armin said.

Mikasa snorted. It was a bullshit story and she could smell it a mile away. In all the years of knowing the man, she had learnt to tolerate him, but was no friendlier than she absolutely had to be to show her support of their relationship. She never did make peace with the fact that Levi was a decade older than Eren, and was once very vocal in her concerns that the reserved older man would put a damper on Eren’s vibrant youth. Her concern proved to be for naught, and she had to admit that she was surprised by how well the two handled their vastly different lifestyles. Nevertheless, she was still somewhat cautious of him.

Armin knew this. He knew that Mikasa wasn’t particularly fond of the man, and would have a go at him any chance she could – Levi was no better, in fact the two of them were like bickering siblings – but Armin was the self-appointed keeper of the peace, even in Eren’s absence.

“He just got back from a trip last night,” Armin explained. “And he was in at work today, so I don’t think he’s had time to rest properly.”

“_Sure._” Mikasa was not convinced, but she wouldn’t fight it. She liked hosting her friends. “_My place is cool._”

“We just need to bring drinks, right?” Armin confirmed.

“_Yeah._”

“Cool. See you later.”

“_See you._”

_Crisis averted, _Armin thought, as he shot Eren a quick text saying that Mikasa was happy to host. He then texted Erwin to disregard the previous text, before hopping into the shower to get himself ready for the evening. While in the shower, he deliberated on what to wear, assembling outfits in his head that would be neat but not too casual. If there was one thing Armin liked, it was looking good no matter where he went.

* * *

The quaint two-bedroom townhouse in the corner of a security complex had been Eren’s sanctuary since Mikasa started renting it two years ago. When she announced that she would be renting her own place, Eren was borderline manic in his excitement to help her choose a home. What Mikasa thought would be a quick day of viewing several places turned into a two-week long nightmare. Eren had been watching too many property related TV shows (no thanks to Levi, she was sure) and had become a self-proclaimed expert in the market. Some of the places Mikasa thought were perfect were flawed in Eren’s eyes; cracks in the walls due to underlying clay layers (who even cares?), bedrooms that weren’t north-facing, and even the type of trees in the yard (_trust me, Mika, you don’t want deciduous trees because they’re a nightmare come autumn!_). Eventually, when Mikasa was at the end of her line, she threatened that if Eren didn’t like the next property, she would go and look for one herself.

The next one was this one, and Eren immediately fell in love.

It wasn’t big, but it was comfortable for one or even two people. Being in the corner bordered by another complex meant that the garden was a little more spacious than other units, but it wasn’t against the outer perimeter. The complex had a communal swimming pool, and it was pet friendly.

Since Mikasa started renting, Eren would visit often. He’d even tried gardening with her, something the young woman grew a fondness for, but Eren hated it, and with good reason. Everything Eren tried to nurture died. Nevertheless, the door was always open – Eren had the spare key and full access to the complex – and would visit often. Mikasa was pleased that Eren thought of her home as a safe space, and it warmed her heart to know that despite everything they’d been through, her brother considered her someone he could rely on.

The fact that many of his visits were motivated by Eren’s wanting to get away from Levi and their home, only made it that much sweeter.

Eren’s knocking on the door caused an eruption of barking on the other end. The sound of claws sliding across tiles as an excited pup fought to find traction while charging to the door brought a smile to the brunet’s face. He was there the day Mikasa adopted Bean, a Beagle pup that had been abandoned after backyard breeders couldn’t make all their sales. He was a cute little thing, with a world of love to give.

When the pup reached the door, he clawed at it and began whining. He must have recognized Eren’s scent.

“Bean!” Eren called through the door, sending the dog into another barking fit. Eren could only imagine the poor animal near-seizing as excitement tore through his body.

“Bean, quiet!” another voice on the other end of the door hissed. A man’s voice. Jean Kirstein’s voice. “Back, inside!”

Eren suppressed a sigh. He and Jean had never seen eye to eye, and after the accident, the fragile friendship they had built shattered. Jean didn’t have to say it, but Eren could see by the way he looked at him, that Jean blamed him for Marco’s death.

They avoided each other for years. Even when Jean hung out with Mikasa, Eren would go out of his way to avoid those nights. The way Jean looked at Eren made him sick…and, admittedly, afraid. Those fierce hazel eyes would always seek Eren out and his gaze would burn with the wrath of a man fantasizing about a gruesome revenge. And knowing Jean’s history of lashing out, and with his precarious mental stability following his lover’s death, Eren found himself genuinely scared of what would happen if Jean ever found him alone.

However, as the years passed and Jean finally came to terms with Marco’s untimely passing, he eventually started to realize that it wasn’t Eren that was responsible, but the medical staff that had cleared Marco after the accident. Eren was relieved when Jean refocused his wrath, and after some consultation with legal experts, sued the hospital for medical negligence. It was a long and arduous case, but Jean won, and with Marco’s family out of the picture, Jean pocketed a handsome amount from the trial.

When the front door opened, Jean looked down at Eren. He was only a few centimeters taller than the latter, and despite being the same age, looked years older. Unlike Eren, he never shaved his facial hair, and the neat chinstrap beard not only enunciated his (regrettably) perfect jawline, but it also gave him a mature edge that Eren wished he had. As always, Jean was exceptionally groomed, sun-kissed brunet hair combed neatly to the side and shaved along the sides.

Eren hated to admit it, but Jean had gotten fucking sexy over the years.

“Hey,” Jean said, extending his hand.

Shaking it, Eren wondered if Jean’s voice had always been that deep. “Hey.”

The excited Beagle broke through then, charging at Eren to leap against his leg, only to be met with Eren’s face as the brunet suddenly crouched down. As the slobbering tongue of the pup met with Eren’s face, he let out a squeal and a laugh, hands quickly finding the spot behind the dog’s ears that would make him weak.

“Hey, boy!” Eren cooed. “You a good boy? Huh? Yes, oh, you like that, don’t ya?”

Bean whined as he all but melted in Eren’s arms, panting as he licked the man’s face. Jean closed the front door and walked off, rolling his eyes at Eren’s enthusiasm.

Who could blame Eren? He didn’t have a pet of his own and hadn’t had one since childhood.

After greeting the pup, Eren made his way into the house to find Mikasa. Bean followed eagerly, still jumping up to nip at Eren’s hand, demanding his attention and not understanding why the shower of affection had suddenly stopped.

“I’ll give you more love a little later,” Eren promised the pup, but of course Bean didn’t understand.

“Bean!” Jean called from where he’d made himself comfortable, and the pup immediately dashed off to the man.

“Eren!” Mikasa called as Eren entered the kitchen.

Mikasa was on her knees in front of the fridge, both the doors to the fridge and freezer wide open, and a beer in each hand. A dozen beers had been shoved into every available crevice in both the fridge and the freezer, and Mikasa was still looking for spot for the two in her hands.

“Uh, hi,” Eren said, eyeing Mikasa’s handiwork. It was impressive.

Without breaking eye contact with her enemy, Mikasa offered Eren a rigid wave. She was sure she could fit these two in _somewhere_. Maybe if she took the condiments out of the door for a few hours, she could use that space…

“Uhm, this needs to go in too,” Eren said, raising a packet with his own dozen.

Mikasa shot him a glare, offended that he would assume she had so little foresight. “We can start with these cold ones, and as we drink them we will replenish them with those.” She gestured to the packet in Eren’s hand. “So just put them somewhere on the counter.”

Eren chuckled and obliged. It was quite convenient that all of them drank the same beer.

“So,” Eren said, grinning as he leaned on the counter. “Are we getting fucked tonight?”

“Not that one,” Mikasa said, head jerking to where Jean sat, watching soccer. “He’s writing this week, and _someone_ decided to watch sport all day today instead of study.”

“Oi!” Jean called. “There were some good games on today.”

Mikasa chuckled. Jean’s biggest weakness was soccer. He liked club soccer, university soccer, and international soccer. The unfortunate thing was that there was _always_ at least one game on, but at least with exams closing in, Jean had promised Mikasa he’d reign it in a bit and only watch the ones that really mattered to him. Today, apparently, that meant four games, with another still to come.

“Uh-huh,” Mikasa said, finally giving up and abandoning the two beers in her hand on the counter.

“I’ll still have a few,” Jean muttered, his pout horribly out of place on his mature face.

With a chuckle, Mikasa reached into the fridge and retrieved three beers, asking Eren to take Jean’s to him as she realized the open space meant she could give her abandoned beers a home!

“Thanks, man,” Jean said as he accepted the beer in Eren’s hand.

“Cheers,” Eren said, raising his bottle.

“Cheers,” Jean replied, with a lopsided grin, as he hit the neck of his bottle to Eren’s with a bit more vigor than needed.

_Macho idiot,_ Eren thought, but smiled at the man.

“Where’s Armin?” Eren asked. “I thought I was late.”

“He said Erwin was dropping him off, so he’d be a bit late,” Mikasa answered before coming to sit on the couch adjacent to Jean. Just then, her phone rang. A quick glance at the screen showed it was the security at the complex gate. “Ah, speak of the devil.”

In the minutes it took Armin to get to the house, Eren took the seat adjacent to Jean that Mikasa had just vacated. He peered at the TV screen, wondering what all the fuss about soccer was. The game would go on for ninety minutes, more often than not going into overtime, and scores often sat below three goals in an average game. A slight nick on the opponent’s shin warranted a penalty. Soccer players were drama queens, often overacting the slightest contact. Eren had no inclination to watch the game, and preferred to watch rugby; where the players would bleed and be called off the field by the medical staff before they cried out to the referee.

“This a live game?” Eren asked.

It was Karanese FC versus AC Sina. Karanese was in the lead, two-one.

“No, just highlights,” Jean replied before taking a swig of his beer. “Last week’s game. Sina will be going up against Shiganshina FC in a few minutes.”

Thankfully, Armin’s voice calling out to greet both Eren and Jean saved the brunet from having to feign any more interest in the sport. It was hugs and smiles all around as Armin greeted everyone, and none too soon, he had a beer in his hands. A round of cheers was shared amongst the four, before Jean settled back on his spot and the other three made themselves comfortable on the other couches. Armin sat beside Eren, while Mikasa occupied the only other single-seat couch on the other side.

“So, what’s up?” Armin asked, glancing at Eren as he sipped his drink.

Eren shrugged. He knew Armin’s question was loaded, but decided he would feign innocence for as long as possible. Taking a long drink of his beer, he almost missed the looked that Armin and Mikasa shared, and quickly focused his attention on what was now pre-match buildup.

Mikasa alone could bully Eren into speaking. Armin could manipulate him just as well as he could play the patience game…Eren always lost and ended up speaking anyway. Together, the two were formidable. Eren did not like where this was going. Not. One. Bit.

“It was a very sudden change of venue,” Armin said, voice so innocent that Eren would’ve been impressed…if the interrogation weren’t aimed at him.

Prepared for the thinly veiled accusation, Eren quickly countered with, “Levi’s tired. He doesn’t feel like having people over.”

“As if that’s ever stopped you,” Mikasa said.

_Touché, _Eren thought, shooting her a hard glare. While he knew there was no winning against his two closest friends, Eren would at least try and put up a fight – as much as he wanted to talk to his friends about what was happening at home, he wasn’t in the mood for it right this moment.

When Eren spoke, he spoke slowly, concisely, giving away the fact that he was trying to control his runaway temper. “There’s a difference between him just being full of shit, and him being genuinely tired. He just got back from Ermich yesterday, and was at the office all morning. He just wants to rest.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. Levi probably did want to rest up a bit, and even if they had decided to hang out at their home, Eren was certain Levi wouldn’t have sat with them for any longer than absolutely necessary.

“Hmm,” Armin said thoughtfully, filling Eren with dread. “Funny, because Erwin is on his way to Levi as we speak.”

“He’s _what?_” Eren cried out, jumping to his feet with hands balled into fists.

Oh, Armin knew he’d stirred the pot. In fact, that was exactly what he was going for. Trying to coax the truth out of Eren wouldn’t work, but if he riled Eren up just enough, the floodgates would open on their own. The worst part of it was that Eren knew exactly what Armin was trying to do, and he hated that it was working. He could feel the truth curdling in his gut, ready to spew from his lips the second he had half the chance.

Before Armin could reply, Jean stood up and waved at Mikasa with his phone in hand. “I’ll order the pizza so long. Game’s about to start.”

_Good idea, _Mikasa mouthed before turning her attention back to Armin.

“Erwin dropped me off, saying he’s going to see Levi tonight so he wouldn’t mind picking me up if I’d like to have a drink tonight,” Armin casually explained. He waved his half-drunk beer at Mikasa, and she promptly went to retrieve another round.

“That sonofabitch,” Eren mumbled. He sat down with considerably more force than what was needed.

He wasn’t angry that Levi was seeing Erwin. Hell, if Levi wanted to, he could take Erwin away for a week-long bromantic holiday, for all Eren cared. What did piss him off was the fact that Levi shut himself off, once again, and would rather run to his best friend than speak things out with his own lover. Eren understood that friends were there for these moments of conflict – oh, did he know that too well – but there were some things that lovers just had to sort out between themselves.

_What fucking good will it do talking to Erwin if he won’t talk to me?_ Eren thought bitterly.

In his moment of irritation, Eren had missed the knowing look Mikasa and Armin shared when she handed him a new drink.

“I just find it strange,” Armin eventually continued, “that that would happen after you said Levi’s tired.”

_Fuck it, _Eren thought as he sighed.

All irritation and anger left him. Eren downed the last bit of his beer before opening a new one, taking a few large sips that put the bottle at half in seconds. He then stared at the bottle as he considered how to approach the topic. Yes, he wanted to bitch and moan a bit with his friends, but he didn’t _really _want to talk about it. Despite the arguments he and Levi had had in the past about the topic, Eren really felt like they’d made some sort of progress today. Even if that progress was no longer shouting and swearing at each other, it was something. All he had to do was just talk a little more, a little calmer, when both he and Levi were in a good state of mind, and the argument could finally be buried.

“Eren, talk to us,” Mikasa said. “I can see something’s bothering you. We both can.”

Tired emerald eyes lifted to meet Mikasa’s, before flitting to Armin’s, and the concern in both blues and greys was astounding. Perhaps talking to his friends to sort out his thoughts for the final conversation he planned to have with Levi wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“You guys know he doesn’t want me going to Titan,” Eren said.

While Armin nodded attentively, encouraging Eren to go on, Mikasa just averted her gaze. Both had heard those words more times than they cared to count in the last three months, and it was no secret that Mikasa felt the same way as Levi. The only difference was that she didn’t attack him on it, but whenever he brought it up, she wasn’t scared to give him a good piece of her mind.

“I mean, I get it,” Eren continued, pulling his shoulders up to his ears and splaying his arms out. “It’s not ideal, but…”

“Not ideal?” Mikasa coughed, eyes snapping to meet Eren’s. “Eren, having to move a few hundred miles to Sina for a job is _not ideal_. Working in a _warzone _is blatantly dangerous.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Not ideal. Seriously?”

Eren drew a deep breath and clenched his jaw. This was the exact reason he didn’t want to talk to Mikasa about this.

“I know you and Levi are chums on this one, but I am done having this argument and would actually like a bit of sympathy and fucking unbiased advice,” Eren hissed.

Mikasa frowned at the insinuation that her and Levi were anything more than acquaintances, and Eren had to admit that it felt good to goad her on it.

“So I will continue speaking to Armin,” Eren finished.

“Whatever,” Mikasa muttered, before sitting back with her arms crossed over her chest, nursing her beer.

Just as Eren was about to speak again, Jean came back to the living room. “Alright guys, pizza’s been ordered. Peperoni, meat feast, BBQ chicken and BBQ rib. All large, all thick-base.”

“Four large pizzas?” Armin cried out. “Isn’t that a tad excessive?”

Jean shrugged and plonked back onto his seat, grabbing the remote to turn up the volume as he said, “It was two-for-one.”

“Unbelievable,” Armin whispered, but he knew that Jean and Eren could easily pack away one whole pizza each. In fact, Mikasa also had a healthy appetite, and Armin wouldn’t be surprised if she would able to finish almost a whole one. He idly wondered if he was the only one out of the four that was concerned about his figure.

The blond turned to Mikasa, who was brooding over Eren’s remark, and asked, “Why don’t you want Eren going there?”

At that question, Eren’s eyes nearly fell out of his head as he widened them while shooting Armin a sideways glare that promised a world of pain. Pointedly ignoring the threat, Armin simply raised his hand to Eren and said, “No fighting…let’s just hear her reason.”

“It’s dangerous,” Mikasa answered.

After waiting a moment for more, Armin asked, “That it?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said. “It’s a warzone. It’s dangerous.”

Jean scoffed, and without turning from the TV, he said, “Dangerous? Living in Eldia is dangerous. Violent crime is on the rise, the police are getting more useless by the week, murder, muggings, home invasions, hijacking.” He turned to Mikasa then, unfazed by the dark glare she was shooting him. “Hell, just driving on these roads is a fucking hazard. And that fucker rides a bike.” Jean pointed at Eren and then laughed humorlessly. “He’s more likely to die here than he is in Marley.” He turned back to the TV just as the whistle blew for kick-off.

No one was more shocked by Jean’s words that Eren. _Did he just defend me?_ Eren thought, staring at the man in unabashed awe. Eren had never considered Jean more than a friend of a friend at best, and while they were mostly civilized around each other – chiding comments and excessive amounts of sarcasm aside – they weren’t a pair one would find hanging out alone. For Jean to actively defend Eren, against Mikasa of all people, had everyone in the room stupefied.

Even Mikasa was at a loss for words, despite her glaring at Jean. In fact, she was offended that Jean would side with Eren over _her_. Armin, however, while taken aback, had to admit that Jean had made some valid points.

Turning his attention back to Mikasa, Eren said, “I won’t be in the thick of things.” He hoped he wouldn’t have to rehash everything he told Levi, because quite frankly, he was sick of it. “Hell, Titan forbids its crew from even leaving the compound.”

“And you’re going to listen to that rule?” Mikasa challenged.

“Yes, Mikasa!” Eren urged. “That isn’t some dumb rule made up by a corporate body to prevent people from having fun and wasting money. This is a rule that prevents people from being killed, like all of you are so damn afraid of.”

Just as Mikasa was about to answer, Armin raised his hand to shush her, and she immediately obeyed. He turned to Eren and asked, “And Levi is aware of this.”

“Yes!” Eren wanted to tear his hair out by its roots. He felt like he would never stop having this conversation. Even Bean looked tired of it, Eren mused, as the pup lay on the floor beside Jean's couch with eyes drifting closed and ears no longer tracking the sounds of the voices in the room.

“You don’t think that his military background is making him assume the worst?” Armin asked.

Eren snorted. “Obviously it is. And it doesn’t help that Levi is the world’s biggest fucking pessimist and sees doom and gloom in everything.” Eren took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. His beer was done, and he was in desperate need of a new one.

“Refills, anyone?” Mikasa suddenly asked, having tracked Eren’s line of sight.

The low hum of “yes please” was murmured, and Mikasa promptly made her way to the kitchen to get everyone a drink. A part of Eren was irked by her obvious avoidance of the subject, but another part of him was glad for it; it gave him some time to gather his thoughts and calm down. He could feel himself getting angry, and the last thing he wanted was to fight with his friends about the same shit he fought with Levi over.

Mikasa returned and handed out beers to everyone, nodding as they thanked her, before sitting down and taking a deep breath. Eren clenched his jaw as he steeled himself for a lecture.

“You have to understand where we’re coming from,” Mikasa said, ruing the fact that she had had to group herself with Levi. “Marley is an active warzone, and I’m sure you know Eldians aren’t high on their list of people they like. Not only are you in danger because of the area, but you’re at risk because of your nationality.”

_God, they sound the same, _Eren thought, but bit back his remark. Instead, he calmly said, “I don’t really have much of a choice, Mika.”

The woman frowned. “Levi offered you a job.”

Eren laughed. Not because he was amused, but because he was shocked that everything he’d said to everyone about Levi’s offer had gone over their heads. If there was one thing Eren hated, it was repeating himself, and while it was bad enough that he had to do it to his own lover, it was unimaginable that he had to do it to his damn friends. He shook his head and smiled a maniacal smile that made Armin uncomfortable.

“Okay, let’s think about this…” Eren rubbed the back of his neck, chanting in his mind to calm down. The anger was building, though; he could feel it in the slight tremor in his fingers. “Yes, Colossus has a plane I’ll be able to fly and yes, it’s bigger than the Nineteen-Hundred so yes, it will be more beneficial to my career.”

Just as Mikasa was about to respond, Eren very pointedly said, “_But_ that aircraft only flies about four hours a month, on a good month.”

“How do you know that?” Armin asked.

“I asked Petra,” Eren answered without looking away from Mikasa. “The Citations are more economical and luxurious than the Embraer, so the company prioritizes those aircraft. So flying for Colossus will mean it will take me _years_ to get the hours Wings Aviation wants. With Titan, I’ll get double what Wings requires in only twelve months.”

The three fell into a silence that was broken only by the quiet murmur of the commentator excitedly crying bloody murder on the TV. Jean tensed, pointing harshly at the TV as he murmured to himself about a player being offside. Funnily enough, Eren found himself jealous over the fact that Jean’s greatest plight in this moment was the credibility of the goal scored against his team.

“This time next year, I could be starting my rating on the Boeing Seven-three-seven. It’s my dream plane to fly and…” Eren took a deep breath as a truth he hadn’t even considered finally touched his tongue. “I find it hurtful that the people closest to me are trying to do everything they can to push that dream further away from me.”

“Eren, that’s not…” Mikasa started, voice low, the accusation hitting her hard, but Eren interrupted.

“It’s four tours,” Eren said. “That’s it. Then I’m done, and I’ll be back in Eldia forever. It’s six months of my life I need to spend there, and then I never have to look back. I can get in my Seven-three, and finally be a fucking airline pilot.”

Another silence befell them, but only a few seconds passed before Mikasa’s phone rang. It was the complex security.

“The pizzas are here,” Mikasa said, before answering the phone and letting the deliveryman in.

Mikasa offered to collect and pay for the pizzas, not daring to tear Jean away from the TV, and while she was gone, Jean intervened once again.

“Do you want the job?” Jean asked.

“Yes,” Eren snapped.

“Why?”

Eren snorted. “Really? Have you never heard a damn word I’ve said about it?”

Hazel eyes turned from the TV then and Jean glared at Eren, unimpressed, as he said, “You talk too damn much for me to care to listen.”

The brunet was about to retort when Mikasa unceremoniously dumped two big boxes of pizza on the coffee table. Bean looked up at the smell of food, but knew better than to jump up on the table. He just huffed quietly before laying back down, eyes now keenly watching for any pieces of food that may fall. “Dig in, guys.”

“I’m asking why do _you_ want the job,” Jean said, snide comment forgotten, as he grabbed himself a slice of pizza. “Ignore the fact that it’s in Marley or whatever. If this job was right here in Karanese, why would you want it?”

Eren’s brows drew together. He’d never thought of it like that…no one had pitched the question to him in that way before. Grabbing a slice of pizza for himself, he took a big bite as he considered his answer. It didn’t take him long to realize exactly what it was.

“It’s a better aircraft and a better salary,” Eren said.

“There you have it,” Jean said, turning back to the TV. “If you can justify the job, no one has any right to tell you not to do it. It’s to better yourself, and anyone that stands against that is being shitty to you, and doesn’t want to see you grow.”

“Jean,” Mikasa warned, hurt and angered that he dare insinuate she was being _shitty _to Eren.

“It’s the truth,” Jean said. “I’m sure even this suicidal biker bastard has thought about the dangers of the job. If he’s still willing to take it despite them, let the thing go and fuck around in Marley. Hizuru, for all I care. He knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m not a thing,” Eren mumbled, but he couldn’t hold any contempt towards Jean. The man’s vehement defense was shocking at best, and Eren had no idea where the hell it was coming from. Though, instead of dwell on it or even thank the man, Eren let it go.

He could only imagine Jean considering Marco being in the same situation.

“That is true,” Armin said with a sheepish smile. “I’m sure even you wouldn’t go somewhere if your life was _really _in danger, right?”

Eren’s lips pulled into a half-hearted grin as he said, “I might be a maniac, but I’m not completely stupid.” Eren wolfed down the rest of his slice of pizza before reaching to grab another, and said, “Besides, the insurance on the Embraer has hour requirements I don’t meet, so I can’t take Levi’s offer even if I wanted to.”

“I’m sorry, Eren,” Mikasa said quietly. “I just…I’m scared for you, you know?”

“And I bet Levi is too,” Armin said.

_Scared?_

Hearing that word associated with Levi was foreign. Eren wanted to argue, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Levi was simply scared. The man didn’t need cold, hard facts and figures, he needed reassurance.

“Yeah,” Eren said, smiling widely as he realized what he had to do to put Levi’s mind at ease. “Hey uh…Mika would you mind if I ditch you guys? I need to go talk to Levi.”

Grey eyes lit up as her smile touched them. “Sure. Take your beer and a pizza with. You’re going to need it.”

“You’re the best!” Eren said, jumping up to give Mikasa a sloppy kiss on the cheek. She appreciated the gesture, but Eren drooled worse than Bean when he was excited.

Within minutes, Eren was on his way home, already thinking of ways to kick Levi’s giant best friend out of their home because tonight, Eren and Levi were going to sort this shit out once and for all. This time, there would be no fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read, hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Remember to leave comments and kudos, they bring such joy to my little heart.
> 
> Also, if there is anything that might be unclear or you don't understand, especially with any terminology or stuff, please let me know. I try to explain things where I can, but I often get carried away and forget that the lingo is different across the globe.
> 
> Much Love
> 
> OS


	4. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, and thank you for coming back to another chapter!
> 
> Sorry for not having an update last week, I was travelling a lot and didn't have access to the internet. To amend for that, I'll post this chapter and another one as well.
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Why Titan?”

Levi and Erwin were sitting in the outdoor entertainment area, the large glass doors swung wide open to let in the cool autumn air. Despite the refreshing chill whenever air moved, the evening was pleasant, and both Levi and Erwin were comfortable in only jeans and casual button-up shirts. Both men had a drink in hand, Levi whiskey and Erwin red wine, and as the earth began to swallow up the sun, the sounds of birds scurrying to get their spots in the surrounding trees began to yield to the quiet trickle of the waterfall in the swimming pool.

“They’re the only company with contracts that accept inexperienced pilots,” Erwin said. He sighed heavily. “You know this, Levi.”

Of course he did. Eren, Erwin and Rico had all told him that a hundred times each. His own research proved what all three said to be true. As a matter of fact, there were no other companies in the world that would accept a pilot with no turbine experience, to fly an aircraft of that size. Well, there were, but those were in questionable countries that were not under the governance of international aviation authorities. And despite the unfavorable conditions Titan sent their pilots to, that was still better than flying aircraft under state laws that were known to skim on maintenance.

Levi somehow, stupidly, hoped that one day the answer would be different. He knew it was insane to do the same thing over and over, and keep expecting a different result, but then again, this whole situation was driving him insane.

Levi sighed. “I offered him the time.”

Erwin’s brows drew together, and his sky-blue eyes seemed brighter as they reflected the light from overhead. “How?”

Not turning to look at his old friend, Levi kept his gaze fixed on the waterfall in the pool. It was a stupid little thing, he thought, but it was beautiful in its simplicity. With the property being on an incline, the back end of the swimming pool had a wall that levelled with the ground behind it. The light grey paving all around gave it some elegance, but it seemed empty when it was built. The landscaper suggested fitting a waterfall in the wall, with two smaller fountain spouts on the extremities. Large plant pots housing small bougainvillea trees sat between the waterfall and each fountain, the pink blooms giving some color to Levi’s otherwise grey-scale life. He only planted those trees because Eren once said it had been his mother’s favorite flower, the bougainvillea. It was one of only few facts Levi knew about Eren’s late mother.

“Colossus has an Embraer. And two Citations. I can get him a turbine or even a jet rating if he wants.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Erwin’s throat, prompting Levi to tear his gaze from the tranquil scene before him. “What?”

“For someone as pessimistic as yourself, you sure have your moments of delusional optimism.”

“Delusional?” Levi challenged, glare hardening.

Rising up to the challenge, Erwin shifted forward on in his seat, placing his wine glass on the coaster and his elbows at the edge of the glass table as he raised his hands. Ticking his fingers off, he began.

“How often do your aircraft fly? Where do they fly to? What experience will he get? Dessert, mountain, jungle?” Erwin dropped his hands then, fingers intertwining with one another. “And you know damn well the insurer won’t approve Eren to fly the Embraer, never mind the Citation. He just doesn’t have the hours.”

“Fuck insurance,” Levi said. “If something happens to the plane, I’ll write it off.”

It was Erwin now who had the hardened glare, face as lifeless as a statue as he said, “And if something happened to Eren?”

The two men stared at each other as Erwin knew he had Levi cornered. A moment passed before Levi exhaled forcefully, averting his eyes and once again finding interest in the waterfall by the pool. He wondered if he should turn the lights on; it always did give his garden a fairytale-like ambience when the pool and garden lights were all on, and he had to admit that he really liked it.

“Besides, Levi,” Erwin continued, a grin now twisting his features, “do you really think Eren is going to accept a handout from _you_ of all people? His pride would never allow it.”

That pissed Levi off, as Erwin knew it would. The man cussed under his breath before turning his full attention to Erwin and hissing, “And what do you call what you’re giving him, hm?”

“_I _am not giving him anything,” Erwin said innocently. “A successful multi-billion dollar company is granting him the opportunity to further his experience as part of a youth aviation development program.”

“And Colossus is a _what_, exactly?” Levi challenged.

With one brow raised, Erwin simply said, “Absolutely nothing of relevance in the aviation industry.”

Levi drew a deep breath. Erwin was right. Erwin was always fucking right. The man was not only the voice of reason but the embodiment of it. He never failed to see the bigger picture, and as a result, more often than not, had fool-proof arguments. In all their years as friends, Levi was certain he hadn’t won a single argument against the man.

A tense moment of silence followed. Erwin excused himself to refill his glass, and had taken Levi’s for a refill as well. This left the man alone with his thoughts for a few minutes, thoughts that were damning. Erwin was right. No matter how he looked at it, Titan was the best option for Eren and there was absolutely no evidence to oppose that. Erwin had said, months ago, hell, years ago, that if there was _any_ other option, he would’ve taken it. He didn’t want his cadets in warzones, but he was assured they weren’t as bad as they seemed. His own research proved this true, and he eventually approved the marriage between WA and Titan.

_Eren isn’t the only life I have to worry about, _Erwin once said to Levi. Levi couldn’t give a damn about the rest.

When Erwin sat back down at the table, a resigned Levi said, “Tell me honestly Erwin, because that brat of mine won’t. How bad is it, really?”

Erwin eyed Levi for a moment. The smaller man glared at him with impatience and urgency etched in his eyes, but Erwin remained motionless. He simply stared, wondering if it would be better to tell his dearest friend the unbridled truth, or to lie just a little. As much as he wanted to do the latter, he knew that Eren had probably done that far too much…and, in any event, he at least owed Levi the truth.

“It’s not horrific, but it’s not as bad as you think,” Erwin finally said. Levi raised a brow, daring Erwin to lie, but the blond simply shrugged. “I’m being serious.”

“A warzone,” Levi said for what felt like the hundredth time that night alone. “How is that not _as bad as I think_, pray tell?”

“What we see and what we know of Marley is the whole region’s conflict,” Erwin explained. “My cadets will not be involved with that in any way, shape or form. They are contracted civilian pilots that will perform civilian duties, and nothing more. Their base is in a secure compound that has restricted access, and they are forbidden from venturing into the city of Lago.”

Lago. The city where it all began. Those streets were built on the blood of civilians as international militaries from every other country came in over the years with what they called “good intentions”, only to plunder the already poor city and drive what little economy Marley had right into the ground. It was the most famous of all cities in Marley, and with good reason; it was the most violent. Clan conflicts ran rife, and larger militant groups were actively trying to overthrow the government and slaughtering all who opposed them.

Despite this, Levi would be lying if he said he did not know of the compound. The safe zone, the Green Zone. He’d seen it firsthand, and it really wasn’t that bad. But he’d also seen the heart of Lago, in its worst, so he knew how bad it could get.

“How safe is this compound?” Levi asked, even though he knew the answer; it was as safe as it could be. It was the safest place in the city, perhaps even the country.

Erwin smiled. Just that question alone showed that Levi was taking the facts into consideration, and all he had to do was push a little bit, and Levi would be convinced. But he had resolved to not lie to Levi, so he would do just that – give the man hard facts.

“As secure as it can be,” he said. “There are only five entrances into the whole compound, and of those, only two are open to civilians. Every person and every vehicle that enters the compound goes through a three-tier security scan. Nothing and nobody that shouldn’t be there is there. The locals that work in the compound undergo thorough security screenings prior to employment, to ensure they have no ties with any conflict. They, too, are scanned every time they enter and even exit the compound.”

Levi nodded and took a long sip of his drink. Factually, he had no ground to stand to oppose either Erwin or Eren’s decisions, but a part of him still wanted to. It was that selfish part of him that feared what would happen if the security were to break down. Realistically, though, how would that happen? Levi had run through every scenario he could, and aside from mortar attacks (which he was assured didn’t happen on the compound, or rather _hadn’t happened_ in years), nothing could touch Eren…as long as he stayed within his bounds.

Still, uneasiness gnawed at Levi’s gut. With all this security in place, they had to be combatting an enemy that _wanted _to get in. Hell, the compound was built around an airport, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that an airport was a strategically powerful piece of land to own.

There might not have been a mortar attack on the compound in years, but there was no guarantee there wouldn’t be one in the future. After all, long periods of peace allows unease to fester.

Frowning, Levi asked, “How often do they have contact?”

It was the question Levi feared asking the most, but the one he most desperately needed the answer to. Eren had told him he would never be on the frontlines, but that didn’t mean the brat knew about the people trying to get in.

Erwin opened his mouth to reiterate what he’d just said about the compound, but then quickly shut it. The look in Levi’s eyes was telling him that he didn’t want to know about statistics or previous attempts; the man wanted to know what was going on _now_. Every day in Lago.

“Direct or indirect?” Erwin simply asked.

A hiss of a breath left Levi’s nostrils as he clenched his jaws. “Both.”

“Never direct.” Erwin’s answer was quick, and Levi visibly relaxed at this, though his jaw remained clenched. “But indirect fire and bombings are…common.”

“Define ‘common’, Smith,” Levi said, voice low.

“There is a bunker on the base that Eren will be staying on…”

“Jesus Christ…”

“…and they are contained inside it an average of once a fortnight,” Erwin continued.

Instead of respond, Levi just downed the remainder of his drink before burying his head in his hands. He stayed like this for a moment, fingers curling around strands of hair as if he were trying to find purchase to tear them out of his skull. All the information he’d been getting was conflicting: Eren was safe, but it was still dangerous. He didn’t know how to wrap his mind around it, and while a small part of him wanted to trust Eren, and trust Erwin that this wasn’t just some rash decision to go bombarding into a region of unrest, a much larger part of him – particularly the part that vowed to protect Eren against any and everything – still remained vehemently against the notion. And to hear that indirect contact was a constant…that churned his gut. Eren had never mentioned it before, and Levi had to wonder if Eren himself was even aware of that fact.

“I’m an unreasonable man,” Levi suddenly said. He dropped his hands, eyes red from where his palms had dug in against them, and eyed Erwin with nothing more than resignation.

“Levi…”

“I’m paranoid,” Levi continued, voice louder as he interrupted Erwin, “angry, possessive…I’m unreasonable. I have issues. I know that.”

“No,” Erwin started, but Levi silence him with a hard glare.

“I am unreasonable, and even you cannot argue that,” Levi continued. He sat back in his chair, keeping his gaze fixed on the concerned cerulean eyes of his closest friend. “But tell me, Erwin Smith: am I being unreasonable in wanting to stop at nothing to prevent Eren from going to Marley?”

A moment of silence passed between the two as Erwin pondered this. No, Levi was far from unreasonable in this quest. Erwin had said to Armin, in as many words, that if it were the two of them in this situation, he would fight hell or high water to stop Armin from going. But it wasn’t Armin, and he wasn’t the one trying to hold his lover back…and even if it was, Armin had said that if he were to give up an opportunity to further his career because of someone else, he feared he would grow to resent that person. It might never happen, but if there was ever a day when he was a step behind the rest, that moment of being held back would come up.

What Armin had said of Eren made Erwin realize that that young pilot would hold onto those feelings with contempt.

“You’re not being unreasonable,” Erwin finally said. “But I do think that you are not being reasonable either.”

Before Levi could question the man any further, the sound of Eren calling Levi’s voice rang through the house. The two men outside stared at each other, Erwin’s eyes twitching into a smile as he realized that tonight would be the night that these two finally sorted their shit out.

_He’s home early, _Levi thought as he narrowed his eyes at Erwin. He wondered what Armin had said to Eren to get the brunet back home barely an hour after rushing out as if Levi were the last person alive he wanted to be around.

“Let me go,” Erwin said. “I think you and Eren have a lot to talk about.”

Just then, Eren appeared in the doorway, unsurprised to find Erwin there.

“Hi Erwin,” Eren said, smiling pleasantly. He turned to Levi, who barely moved in his seat. “Levi.”

“Eren,” Levi replied.

Erwin took the last sip of his wine before standing up and rounding the table. He rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he said, “Don’t push him away. When it comes to flying, you know where you stand.”

_Second, _Levi thought bitterly, but did not respond. Erwin greeted Eren and saw himself out, leaving the two lovers alone outside.

“Can I get you a drink?” Eren asked, noticing Levi’s tumbler was empty.

At that, Levi turned to Eren. His eyes were tired, but amusement swam in them as he said, “I don’t think I should have more.” _Especially considering the conversation we’re about to have._

Smiling sheepishly, Eren said, “Just one more. I need to talk to you.”

As open as Eren could be with his emotions, he often needed a catalyst. That catalyst, regrettably, was alcohol. When he had some in his system, he spoke freely about his emotions, not worrying about what Levi might make of them. If there was ever a time that was needed, it was now.

“I know you do,” Levi said, before sighing and surrendering his empty glass to Eren. “So get us a drink, and let’s talk.”

* * *

The two shared a drink, and then another, chatting about everything and nothing. Both knew what was to come, and neither seemed willing to break the ice. Despite this, the evening was comfortable, with laughter and jokes shared between the two as if nothing was ever wrong in the first place. At their third round of drinks, Levi suggested they play a game of darts – Eren was always keen for a game of 501, and had a vendetta against Levi after having lost three games in a row, despite being a good player himself.

“What’s the stakes?” Eren asked, as he opened the dartboard cabinet while Levi prepared the darts. Each man had his own set.

“Just a friendly game,” Levi said.

Eren chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You know I’m not a gambler,” Levi said. As soon as Eren moved away from the board, he took three shots as a warmup, each hitting the black strip of the twenty, between the triple and the bull. The man might be a terrible gambler, but he was damn good at throwing darts.

“You just have piss-poor luck,” Eren replied, before taking his own practice throws. His grouping was alright, but he struck one on all three.

“I win, you stay. You win, you go.”

Eren balked. Hands hovering over his darts as he was about to retrieve them, he turned and eyed Levi, unimpressed. “That’s not up to me.”

“It was a joke, brat.”

They started the game then. People who had watched the two of them play together in the past said it was like a fight. Both men held fierce focus whenever they threw, and each threw with frightening precision that could see the game over within minutes. Both Eren and Levi were ardently competitive, and while neither was particularly sore loser, neither enjoyed losing to the other. Their rivalry was as hilarious as it was terrifying. And despite Levi insisting on not being a gambler, there was always something at stake when he played Eren – from something as mundane as who would make dinner, to who would top next. Levi always said it was a win-win either way, which Eren chalked up to just a poor justification on why he was willing to gamble.

With Eren sitting at fifty to go, and Levi at only twenty, the brunet cussed. If Levi hit a double ten now, the game would be his. It wouldn’t be a hard throw either, as Levi was strangely strong on the bottom right quarter of the board, which was Eren’s weakest area. Eren, on the other hand, had to bring his score down to something he could throw a double on.

Knowing this, Levi smirked at Eren. “Ready for number four?”

“Fuck you,” Eren said, frowning as he pouted. It was just a game, but his pride was wounded, and would be more so if this would add to his losing streak. In his turn, Eren managed to bring his score down to twenty-four. A double-twelve was doable, Eren reckoned, so there was hope after all.

Levi grinned as he threw a dart, just missing double ten. Eren snickered behind him, and after cussing at the brunet, Levi threw again and pegged the double neatly. It was Eren who cussed then, slamming his darts down onto the table before grabbing his beer to finish it off.

“I swear you practice when I’m not looking,” Eren grumbled.

Levi chuckled and ruffled Eren’s hair as he made to get a refill for them both. With the mood now relaxed, he was sure they could talk without fighting. After all, Levi would be lying if he said he wasn’t exhausted by the constant bickering, and damn sick of fighting against something he knew he couldn’t change.

It was all a bit of understanding, and it wasn’t that he didn’t have the information to process, it was just that he was too damn stubborn to do so. Yet faced with the possibility – however improbable it was – that Eren could and would choose flying over him, Levi knew that if he didn’t sort his attitude out quickly, he ran the risk of losing the man he loves.

When Levi came to sit across the table from Eren, the brunet was playing music through the sound system outside. Karliene’s _Become the Beast_ was playing, a song both men loved. In fact, both loved the artist, having discovered her after Eren had gone on one of his infamous YouTube music binges. Eren’s taste in music fascinated Levi – that brat would listen to hard rock and then immediately after that switch to a piano concerto. Eren could appreciate a hard bassline just as easily as he could appreciate the beautiful intricacies of the violin, and to say that Levi wasn’t impressed by Eren’s knowledge of classical music would be a lie.

“Levi,” Eren said, tone demanding Levi’s attention but in no way confrontational.

Levi looked up at Eren, and found green eyes fixed on the lights in their garden. The lights reminded Eren of home, he’d once told Levi, but despite that, Eren hadn’t spoken much about his upbringing. Levi found it curious that neither on knew much about the other’s past, despite having been together for as long as they had, but it pleased Levi in the fact that they were more focused on their future together than their pasts apart. It was a tragically romantic thought.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Levi said.

The brunet tensed, trying to make his movements seem natural as he brought his drink to his lips and sipped it. While Levi didn’t seem particularly confrontational, Eren still expected the worst. He knew better than to take Levi’s emotions on face value; the man was a ruthless businessman, and surviving in corporate came with the inherent need to perfect one’s poker-face. Levi could appear calm while having a storm brewing in his heart. Eren hated it; he hated that Levi would keep up the pretense even in front of him, but it was something he’d come to accept…just as Levi had promised to show more. It wasn’t much, but sometimes, he let his façade slip.

“And I’m not going to fight you,” Levi continued, voice low. “I’m done with that.”

That was unexpected. Eren turned his attention to his lover, surprised to see Levi staring down at the tumbler on the table, turning it this way and that between his fingers. He didn’t look angry, upset, disappointed or scared. He just looked…resigned. As if he’d truly accepted it all, instead of giving up for the sake of precarious peace.

“Really?” Eren was still not entirely convinced. “One chat with Erwin and you have a change of heart?”

“It wasn’t one chat,” Levi said with a frown. He took a long sip of his drink before placing it back on the coaster, fingers drumming lightly at the table as he considered how to word what was in his heart. The sound of water falling into the swimming pool was oddly calming, and Levi idly wondered why it was that people associated the sound of water – rivers, waterfalls and even the ocean – calming. “Today he said something to me that kind of shocked me.”

It was Eren that frowned now. “What was that?”

Those restless fingers abruptly stopped drumming on the table as Levi brought his eyes up to meet the curious, concerned gaze of his lover. Eren’s frown deepened at the expression Levi held; a sad smile and eyes that had aged a decade in the span of a few minutes.

“Flying comes first to you,” Levi said, voice soft. “I mean, I know that but…” Levi paused, drawing in a deep breath as if making sure Eren was listening to every word. The brunet leaned forward, eyes imploring Levi to speak more. “He reminded me that if you had to choose between me or flying, you wouldn’t choose me.”

“Levi, I…” Eren started as a sudden damning weight seemed to tug at Eren’s gut. He promptly shut his mouth, knowing that any defense or denial would simply be a lie. Levi held his gaze, silently daring him to spew those comforting untruths, but Eren couldn’t. He wouldn’t lie to Levi.

Flying wasn’t only his career. It was his hobby, his passion, his love…it was everything. Even though he was only in his mid-twenties, Eren was terrified of the day his old age would render him medically unfit to fly. Many times, over the course of his short, budding career, Eren had said that he had no idea what he would do with himself if he ever lost the ability to taste flight, to chase the freedom that only the skies could offer. Many a time, he’d said he’d rather be dead than never fly again. It was no secret to those that knew the man that Eren would pay whatever price and make whatever sacrifices needed to be made to live in the sky.

After all, a man not pursuing his dreams was merely alive, not living.

“I don’t want to have to put you in that position,” Levi eventually said. He shook his head, chuckling before taking another quick sip of his drink. “Hell, selfishly I don’t want to be in that position, because I know how it’ll end.”

Eren knew it too. The outcome was so damn obvious, but he still wanted to hear Levi say it. “How will it end?”

“_We_ will end,” Levi said. He sat back then, eyes sweeping over the garden. It really was beautiful, he thought. “You will choose your flying over me, rightfully so.” He hated saying that, but it was true. What kind of a partner would he be if he hindered Eren’s career because of his own worries? “We will both be hurt, and you will angry.”

“_I _will be angry?” Eren asked, a brow raised.

Smirking, Levi said, “I will be too, obviously. Just for different reasons.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll be angry because you’ll always wonder if there was a way to have balanced it, or you’ll always wonder what would have happened if you’d chosen differently. You’d be angry because of regret.”

_True, _Eren thought. And then, despite how obvious the answer, he asked, “And why would you be angry?”

When Levi turned his head to look at Eren seated across from him, there was mirth dancing amidst the sorrow in his eyes. It was the strangest expression, Eren thought, but he found it oddly beautiful. He wanted to kiss Levi, and his eyes flitting to the man’s lips gave away his intentions. Levi never noticed.

“I’ll be angry because you left me for fucking flying,” Levi said. “I’ll also be angry because I put you in that position. I’ll be angry because you ended up getting hurt because of me.”

Pain filtered into Levi’s voice as he spoke, and that snapped Eren into action. He chugged the rest of his beer, and before he could think what he was doing, his legs had taken him around the table and brought him to stand before Levi, looming over the seated man.

Levi moved his chair and looked up at Eren curiously, but he would be damned if Eren was not the most beautiful thing in the universe. Standing before him, fists clenched and eyes screaming out in a desperation Levi couldn’t understand, Eren looked like a man who knew not how to speak but wanted to communicate with his body. Desperate, loving, longing…Eren just stared down at Levi, brows eventually drawing to a furrow as he realized words would never be enough.

With a harsh exhale, Eren came to sit on Levi’s lap, straddling the man as he wrapped his arms around Levi’s shoulders. Green never left grey as Levi’s hands found themselves settling on Eren’s thighs, giving his lover a reassuring squeeze.

“I love you,” Eren said. “I don’t ever want to leave you. Never, Levi.”

A small smile touched Levi’s lips, and this time he did notice as Eren’s gaze flitted down to them. “I love you too, my brat. I’ll never give you reason to walk away.”

Eren smiled then, relaxing as he leaned forward slightly. He tried to keep his eyes on Levi’s, but he couldn’t help the flicker of his gaze to his lover’s lips. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to kiss Levi.

“Just promise me one thing, Eren,” Levi suddenly said, his own gaze now lingering on the lips he knew brought him more satisfaction than he could’ve ever imagined over the years. Lips that uttered reassurances, spoke of their love, and hailed their debauchery. Lips he wanted to taste, to touch and feel, right now.

“What is it?” Eren asked.

“No matter what you do and where you go,” Levi said, forcing himself to look into the stunning emerald eyes that were focused solely on him. “Just please be safe. That’s all I ask.”

The grin that lit up Eren’s eyes then was the same cocky smirk that brat always threw at Levi whenever the man told him to fly safely. He already knew what Eren was going to say, and even though it was the same response that he’d been getting all these years, somehow it just made Levi feel more at ease.

“Always.”

Finally, they kissed. Eren felt like he’d been waiting for this kiss for a lifetime, yet despite that, it was just the gently massage of lips against one another. Levi hummed, smiling as he pushed Eren away a little.

“Let’s play another game of darts,” Levi said.

Eren raised a brow and huffed a laugh. “You’d rather play darts than kiss me?”

Levi grinned mischievously and said, voice so sultry it caused Eren to shudder, “You win, you top. I win, I wreck you.”

“Cruel of you to do that when I’m on a four-match losing streak,” Eren whispered breathily, not caring for much other than the press of Levi’s hardening length that he could feel becoming more prominent beneath him.

“It’s a win-win,” Levi said, rolling his hips up against Eren. The brunet bit his lip, eyes falling straight to Levi’s lips. “And for every bull or bullseye you get, you can make me remove an item of clothing. Same goes if I hit one.”

That caught Eren’s attention, and it showed as his grin widened. Something was telling him that they wouldn’t be finishing this game, but he didn’t care. In the last game, he’d thrown four bulls and one bullseye, which, if repeated, would be enough to get Levi naked. And Eren would be damned if he got Levi naked and didn’t fuck the man right then and there.

“Deal,” he said, before getting off Levi’s lap, grabbing at the bulge in his pants to make a show of his arousal.

With a grin on his face, Levi reciprocated Eren’s actions as he spread his legs lewdly. They might have fun fighting for who would top, but Levi knew that Eren preferred to be on the receiving end. Eren was very vocal on his love for being filled, and Levi was always more than happy to oblige.

* * *

They never did make it through the game. Levi’s opening throws brought him a bull and a bullseye, which promptly saw Eren shirtless and in his underwear. The lewd brat couldn’t keep his hands off himself, and kept stroking himself through his underwear whenever Levi threw. Never once hitting a bull or bullseye, Eren was playing rather pathetically as he focused on his arousal…and Levi’s growing excitement.

Another bull saw Eren naked, and he sat down and started masturbating openly for Levi.

At first, Levi was hellbent on ignoring it, but seeing Eren like that proved impossible to ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

Eren sat on a chair, legs spread to proudly show his manhood. He’d recently groomed, so his hair was neatly trimmed, with his scrotum and all below it smooth. It would be a lie to say that that didn’t make Levi want to drop to his knees and eat out his lover right then and there. As Eren stroked himself, his balls moved, taut from the cool air as his skin crawled over those orbs as if begging for Levi’s attention.

Needless to say, the sight alone was enough to bring Levi to full arousal, wanting nothing more than to taste of Eren’s sweet fruit.

But two can play that game, Levi reckoned.

Instead of give in to his temptation, he simply took another chair and sat in front of Eren, stripping naked before mimicking Eren’s lewd, wide-legged pose. Eren’s eyes immediately fell to Levi’s cock, and he watched with keen eyes as the man slowly stroked himself.

Levi’s touch was light, holding himself loosely with only his fingers. It was just enough stimulation to feel good, but not enough to chase orgasm. He wanted to put on a show for his lover, and he had Eren’s undivided attention. He stroked slowly, the head of his cock glistening as an impressive globule of precum leaked out. Eren licked his lips at this, and Levi knew the brunet was tempted to lick it up. If there was one thing that drove Eren wild, it was precum; the man loved the taste of it, and always praised Levi for producing copious amounts. Amounts that would go to waste, Levi thought with a cruel smirk as he wrapped his hand around his length.

Eren bit his lip as we watched Levi’s hand engulf his impressive flesh. A low moan escaped his mouth as a tremor of delight tore through him, his own hand beginning to move faster. He knew he wouldn’t last long. The pleasure was building quickly, and Eren would be lying if he said that orgasm wasn’t the only thing on his mind. His other hand came to massage his own orbs as he stroked himself, legs twitching as his hips sought to stutter and thrust.

This was exactly where Levi wanted Eren. Hell, he would cum soon too if this went on. Not only did he have the absolute pleasure of watching his lover, but he could see his lover unravel to lust because of _him_. The power that Levi had over Eren and his body made the man drunk, and he would shamelessly exploit that power over and over again, as long as Eren would have him.

Those green eyes had no more cognition in them. Eren had been reduced to an animal, once again, and was staring at Levi’s cock as he worked his own. All he could think about was how hot that flesh must feel, how sweet that precum must taste, and how damn good it would feel to have all of Levi deep inside him. Another moan, this one a bit louder and more desperate than the first, fell from Eren’s lips as he felt the end nearing.

“You going to cum for me?” Levi asked, voice breathy and husky.

Instead of reply, Eren simply shook his head, hand moving ever faster. There was no delicacy to his touch, no buildup needed. Now, all he wanted was to bring himself to orgasm. His hand stroked his length furiously, focusing on his wet cockhead as that sorely coveted pleasure kept creeping up closer, and closer.

Levi could feel his own pleasure building. Hell, he couldn’t fight it even if he tried. The lewd display solely for him was dizzying, and his own ministrations became linear as he chased the same high as his lover.

“Cum, Eren,” Levi hissed.

The wet, lewd sounds of masturbation filled the space between them amidst their harsh breathing. The smell of their musk and arousal was potent even though the autumn air was crisp around them. The heat of their passion was thick, Eren’s brow already sporting a light sheen despite barely five minutes having passed.

Eren didn’t tell Levi he was about to cum. Levi could see it. The brunet threw his head back and his legs shot out in front of him, rigid as his hand staggered in its motion as searing pleasure tore through his body. With a strangled moan, Eren erupted. Snapping the tightly wound need deep within him, a long spurt of cum erupted from Eren’s cock.

Levi grinned, trying to speak his praise but failing as his breath hitched with his own orgasm nearing.

The brunet threw his head forward, watching himself as he came. Another spurt, and another, and yet another, shooting up onto his chest, stomach and hand as he rode out his orgasm. His strokes slowed, breathing heavily as he watched another dribble ooze out of him, the stream not stopping as he slowly pumped and squeezed at his satisfied flesh.

A strangled gasp caught his attention, and Eren looked up just in time to see Levi coming undone. The man’s grey eyes were focused on his own cock, brow furrowed and mouth slightly agape in a silent cry as his copious release shot out and right onto his face. He didn’t even flinch, but Eren groaned at the sheer magnificence of watching Levi mess all over himself.

Levi rode out his orgasms, his own strokes slowing down and quickly ceasing, before he eventually wiped his face with his other hand.

_Fucking disgusting, _he thought, but he had no breath to talk.

When Levi looked up and saw Eren glaring at him with ravenous hunger still wrought in those emerald hues, the man knew then and there that that wouldn’t be his last orgasm for the night.

The chill of the outdoor air quickly cooled the cum on their skin, and within a minute of his climax, Levi was on his feet. “I’m going to shower,” he announced.

Eren chuckled, unsurprised by Levi’s need to clean after such acts. He glanced at the dartboard, and even though they hadn’t finished the game, Levi’s score was indeed much lower than Eren’s. He would’ve lost this game as well, and a part of him was glad that they hadn’t seen it through. Four was where it would remain.

“Let me join you,” Eren said, but before he could stand, Levi threw his own shirt at him.

“Wipe yourself off,” Levi said. “I don’t want you dripping cum throughout the house.”

With a carefree laugh on his lips, Eren happily obliged. After all, if he wanted anymore tonight, he would have to play by Levi’s rules just a little longer. And now that they’d both already cum, it was set to be a long and satisfying night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> So I realized there has been a lot of sexy times in these chapters. Please forgive me (or demand more, whichever tickles your fancy) but I suppose we need some utopia before shit hits the fan! I do hope you enjoyed it thus far, though!
> 
> Remember that comments are always welcome! It fuels the writer brain, as many of you know, I'm sure, and this being the first live piece that I'm posting in a good 4 or so years, any words are welcome!
> 
> Next one up soon :)
> 
> Love  
OS


	5. The Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, and welcome back for another chapter!
> 
> There may be a few terminologies that might be unfamiliar, but they are translated and explained in the end notes. If there's anything I missed, please leave a comment and I'll add it.
> 
> Enjoy!

The rest of the weekend was incredible. Eren and Levi went to bed late on Saturday night, doing unspeakable things to one another until Levi quite literally pushed Eren off him and threatened to go sleep in the spare room if _you do not keep your fucking paws off me, you fucking animal!_ Eren was simply amused by Levi’s lack of sexual stamina, which Levi quickly attributed to “whiskey dick”, but in the end relented.

On Sunday, Eren hosted a braai at their home, inviting everyone he’d ditched the night before, and all but Jean came. While Eren understood that Jean had to study, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that the man couldn’t join, which everyone found strange. Little did they know that it was to the strange camaraderie Jean had displayed, and Mikasa simply warned him that he shouldn’t get used to having Jean on his side. Apparently, the two of them had had a talk about Jean’s behavior that Eren didn’t even want to guess at.

Come Monday, Eren walked into the hangar with a weight bearing down on his heart. His steps were slow and deliberate as he walked to the crew room, eyes scanning the large building to take in everything around him. Fifteen aircraft were packed into the hangar like pieces of a puzzle, and Eren smiled as he remembered the times they had to plan and even draw diagrams to try and get them all in. Four aircraft were already outside, and the ops boys were busy scrambling to get the bowser out as well.

The Eldian flag hung proudly in the front of the hanger, with 104th banners on some of the walls. Pixis was a proud patriot, and Eren later learned that the school had derived its name from the 104th Airborne Fighter Squadron, in which Pixis served during his time in the Eldian Air Force. The school’s logo was an edited version of the original 104th AFS logo, which was blue and white wings crossing in front of a shield’s outline. The edited version had an aircraft instead of the shield, and instead of 104th AFS, the banner read 104th Flight School.

While the school hadn’t been in the hangar for long – since the beginning of his training up until only ten months ago, the offices were in the terminal and the aircraft out on the apron – the move to the hangar had the lifeless building personify everything that 104th stood for: integrity, discipline, good airmanship and most of all, love for aviation. In the span of a week, the school had been moved and one would be hard pressed to say it hadn’t been here all along. Pixis and all the instructors and ops personnel had gone out of their way to bring this building to life, for this hangar was not _just _a hangar; it was a home for the beautiful machines that slept here, while incubating the dreams of every young aviator that trained here.

Eren sure as hell was going to miss this place.

The day went by in a blur. Eren spent most of his day between the crew room and the CFI office, making sure his signature was everywhere he needed to be and finalizing his student transfers. All his students had been notified about his resignation. He only had two flights, and neither one was anything to write home about. One of his students cried, and Hitch had an absolute blast teasing Eren for reacting awkwardly to the waterworks.

Coming up on three that afternoon, the weight in Eren’s heart grew heavier. In only two hours, his final day at 104th would come to an end. While he was ready to take on a new adventure and begin a new chapter in his life, a part of him feared that he would never let go of this one.

This place was like his home.

The scurrying of two ops guys carrying chairs across the hangar caught Eren’s attention. He watched as they ducked and weaved between aircraft, tensing as he saw a chair come a little too close to an elevator or a wingtip once or twice. It was then that he realized that all the aircraft, as well as the bowser, had already been packed away.

“Huh, strange,” Eren said, checking his watch. It read 14:58.

Eren weaved between the aircraft to where the others had disappeared, and as he came closer to the hangar door he could smell fire. It wasn’t just any fire, it was burning charcoal; someone was making a braai. Perplexed, the instructor hastened his pace and when he rounded the corner beside the hangar, he stopped, surprised by the scene that greeted him.

A dozen-odd chairs were neatly arranged around a large souvla braai. Two of the ops guys were busy putting chunks of meat onto the kebabs, while the instructors laid out paper-plates, polystyrene cups and paper-towels on the table that stood against the hangar wall. Beside the table was a massive crate filled with ice, cooling beer and cold drinks within it. Hitch, unsurprisingly, already had a beer in her hand, and was talking to Marlowe, another one of the more senior instructors that Eren had been working with for about a year.

Rumor had it that the two of them had been sleeping together, but they both vehemently denied it. Whether it was to protect their jobs or simply their pride, no one would know, but no one believed their denial.

“What’s going on here?” Eren asked no one in particular.

“Goodbye party,” Thomas said, handing Eren a beer.

Eren smiled, but it didn’t quite touch his eyes. His heart clenched as, once again, the point was driven home that this was his last day here. After working here for three years as an instructor, and nearly two years of training at 104th before that, today was the day it all came to a head. A lump formed in Eren’s throat as he looked upon the faces of his colleagues:

Thomas, who had once been Eren’s awkward and aloof roommate, who was just as odd as an instructor but a damn good one nonetheless. He was Eren’s mentee, and often sought guidance from the more experienced man;

Mina. Hah, don’t let that sweet face fool you. Many a student had said that she was a hellion in an aircraft, but was the sweetest soul of the lot (although many argued that that wasn’t an achievement amongst this band of misfits);

Hitch, forever gossiping, always up for a drink and a damn good shot at pool. Eren had joked that their parting would do his liver good;

Marlowe, forever living by the book. He aspired to become the CFI, and would likely receive the promotion to CGI once Eren was gone.;

Henning, who forever pined after alcohol but hardly ever touched it (with good reason, he lived damn far from the airport and no one condoned drunk driving);

Gelgar wasn’t much of a pilot, and nothing more than perfectly average, but he was a damn good musician; and finally

Daz, a certifiable nervous wreck and a textbook chain-smoker, but surprisingly good at presenting lectures.

These were his fellow airmen and women; people he’d trained with, flew with, worked with, and people who he trusted with his life and who trusted him with theirs. They were a family of aviators…and this would be their last day together. It hurt Eren more than he could say.

“Geez, you guys,” Eren said, clearing his throat to dislodge the metaphorical lump. He twisted his beer open and turned to Thomas. “Thanks for the drink, Tom.”

“Don’t thank that fool,” Hitch piped up. “It’s old man Pixis who sponsored the booze.”

Eren chuckled and winked at Thomas before turning to Hitch, who looked like she’d been sitting on that chair all afternoon…and it wasn’t just the four empty beer bottles littered around her that gave that impression.

“The old man arranged this?” Eren asked.

Hannes was the one to answer, saying, “Well, he footed the bill. We organized it.”

_Of course_, Eren thought with a chuckle. The old man always had grandiose ideas but often found himself lacking in execution. Turning to Hannes to reply, Eren balked when he was greeted by the sight of his ex-instructor, now-CFI standing before him.

Standing proudly with a pair of braai-tongs in hand, Hannes donned an apron sporting a monochrome, to-scale, full-frontal photograph of a hairy, naked man. Even the genitalia in the picture was lewdly on display.

“Fuck, Hannes!” Eren said, shielding his eyes from the unwanted sight of the picture of another man’s dick. While the man on the apron could be considered a ‘sexy bear’ by some, Eren’s tastes were more inclined to smaller, smoother men. One in particular.

Hannes laughed rambunctiously. “Do you like my apron?” He wiggled his hips from side to side as if the photograph of the offending appendage would flop accordingly.

“Hannes, there are women here!” Eren hissed. “You can’t be wearing shit like that, it’s inappropriate!”

Mina, ever innocent, blushed and quickly busied herself rearranging the cups on the table, while Hitch simply shrugged and said, “You seen one, you seen ‘em all.”

_Mine does _not_ look like that!_ Eren thought, stopping himself just as the words were about to fall from his tongue. He would _never_ live it down if he had to let that slip, and he could already imagine a drunk and overly confident Hitch trying to get him to “show him the goods” to prove that not all dicks looked the same. The thing that made him shudder was that he wouldn’t even put it past her, and with enough alcohol, he would probably oblige.

“Pixis suggested I wear it,” Hannes said with a shrug. “He said you’d appreciate it.”

Eren’s jaw dropped. “What does he think of me?”

“I don’t think you want to know, gay-boy,” Henning said with a smile.

Eren blushed as he groaned loudly, turning away from the group that erupted into loud laugher at his obvious embarrassment. The nickname “gay-boy” had come after a petty fight with Levi led to the older man going out of his way to embarrass Eren at work with little notes in his lunch, sickeningly cute phone calls throughout the day and surprise visits to the airport that would see Eren either running away from the school or violently shooing Levi out of it. Levi had even flirted with Eren on the damn airfield frequency, and Hange had heard it. She openly squealed and declared her love for their love, calling them her “favorite gay boys in the world”…and _all _of Eren’s colleagues heard those transmissions.

It had been a year, but they still teased him about it.

Just then, Pixis’ car rounded the corner. The old, black BMW X5 with 104th’s logo and Pixis’ phone number proudly stickered onto the car’s sides was easy to spot. Mostly, when they saw the car approach the hangar, everyone had to scurry to appear busy; cigarettes were put out, coffee was chucked out and students were summoned out of thin air. The old man might have been a pleasure to work for, but he could be hard on his instructors if he found them to be slacking off. Now, however, the smiling Pixis pulling up to the party at the hangar brought no threats of disciplinary action.

As the car came to a standstill, Pixis rolled down the window and greeted everyone. They all greeted back as the man surveyed the scene before him, pleased that the meat was in the process of being put on the coals. Daz was in the process of hooking up the motor to the chain that would simultaneously turn all eight kebabs, with Gelgar hovering around trying to appear useful.

“Daz,” Pixis called.

“Yes, sir?” Daz answered, eyes frantic as they met with the Pixis’.

“Do you know what you’re doing there, boy?” Pixis asked.

“Yes, sir!” Daz answered, nodding as a smile split his face. He seemed to be a perpetual nervous wreck, but when he was in his element, he dived deep into it. “My parents have one just like this.”

“Good lad,” Pixis said. “Marlowe!”

“Yes, sir!” Marlowe answered, jumping up from his seat and shoving his beer into Hitch’s hand.

She grumbled, “It’s not like he couldn’t see you drinking, dumbass…”

“Come sort out some music here,” Pixis said as he slid out of his car, leaving the door open.

With a smile on his face, Marlowe bounded over to the BMW and slid into the driver’s seat to find appropriate music. He connected his own phone to the car’s entertainment system and quickly found some pop, which was generally a safe bet in a crowd of people with different backgrounds and tastes.

Watching the scene unfold, Eren felt an overwhelming sense of sadness take him. It wasn’t the brand of sadness that had him want to break down into tears, nor was it a sadness that made his heart feel like it was breaking. This sadness was what Eren imagined to be the precursor to longing, or the aftermath of nostalgia. It was the reiteration that familiarity was just relative, and that in a world as fluid as this one, the twenty-first century, the only constant was, and always would be, change.

“Ever had a souvla braai before, Eren?” Pixis asked.

“No, sir,” Eren said.

Pixis came to stand beside the brunet and threw an arm around his shoulders. The two men stood in silence for a moment, watching as the kebabs were loaded and a jubilant cry sounded as all the kebabs turned in unison when Daz turned on the motor. Eren thought it was mind-boggling how a group of pilots could be impressed by something as simple as a motor on a rotisserie.

“Thanks for all of this, Pixis,” Eren eventually said softly. He couldn’t believe his colleagues and his boss would go out of their way and do all of this for him. While Pixis enjoyed a good time with his crew, it was no secret that the man was a bean-counter at heart.

“You’ve been very good to me, and to 104th,” Pixis said with a smile. He gave Eren a pat on the back. “This is the least I can do to say thank you.”

Eren’s first flight hour was with 104th. It was an introductory flight, and the instructor had told him he had good aptitude to be a pilot. Since then, he’d worked himself to the bone to be the best aviator he could possibly be, and while he was nowhere near _the _best (much to his chagrin), he knew he was as good as he could get. Even after his accident, Eren only sought to improve himself, and while he would like to say he knew all that there could to be known about flight instruction, he knew that a good pilot was one that was always learning.

“It’s been a hell of a ride,” Eren said with a grin, “but working here has been the best three years of my life.”

Pixis smiled. He had a youthful face, but the wrinkles around his eyes and his mouth gave away his age. Many jested that it was strange that he didn’t look a decade older than he was, what with his love for alcohol and cigarettes. “Here, you were the big fish in a small pond, but out there, you’re going to be a small fish in a big pond.”

_I know, _Eren thought. He didn’t like that. He liked being _the big guy, _the man in charge. Out there, it was a whole different ball game. “I’m going to miss my pond…”

The old man patted Eren on the back once more. “Well, you know where to find us, if you ever want to come visit.” Pixis snorted. “Or if you ever have a change of heart.”

“Of course!” Eren said. “But if you won’t give me twin-turbine time, I’m afraid I can’t come back to you.”

“I know, dear boy,” Pixis said with a smile. “Just know, if you want to instruct in your off time, you are always welcome here.”

Hitch cried out, “Eren won’t come back! He’s going twin-turbine! He’s not gonna have time for us piston losers.”

“Oh, shut up!” Eren whined, bringing another bout of laughter from the crowd. He sipped his beer as he quietly murmured, “I still want instruction time…”

Pixis heard him, but Eren didn’t know that.

“Hey, Eren,” Hannes called, and Eren turned to face him. He was met with another beer, which he took with no hesitation. “If I were you, I’d call the boss and tell him you’ll be home late tonight.”

“The boss?” Eren asked, but quickly realized he meant Levi. He frowned and practically growled out, “What if _I’m_ the boss?”

Everyone snickered. Everyone except for Hitch, who howled out in laughter.

“We all know Levi wears the pants in your relationship, gay-boy,” Hitch said, and the group’s snickering erupted in raucous laughter.

“Oh, shut up! All of you!” Eren said, face beet red as he fished his phone from his pocket.

Walking off to a quieter corner to make said phone call, Eren could hear the laughter, ‘whoops’ and cat-calls behind him, and someone even calling out, “Gay-boy is _whipped_!” Ignoring it, he simply smiled as he dialed Levi’s number, knowing that there was no lie there. After all, he couldn’t argue with Hitch about the pants; Levi really did wear the pants at home, if ever there were such roles assigned to the couple.

Levi answered the phone after only two rings, which was unusual. The man wasn’t one for idle chitchat, and detested social calls during business hours. While he and Eren would often text on and off throughout the entire day, if Eren ever did phone Levi, the phone would either go to voicemail immediately, eventually, or be answered just before going to voicemail. Eren used to hate it, but had learnt to understand that Levi was often with clients, in meetings, or busy with whatever else it is that overly rich men his age do for fun.

“_Eren,_” Levi said. He didn’t even sound annoyed at the phone call, which Eren found particularly odd. Suspicious, even.

“Hey,” Eren drawled out, distracted by Levi’s odd behavior.

“_Why do you sound like you’re in trouble?_” Levi asked. Eren could imagine the deadpan expression, with one brow just barely arched suspiciously.

The behavior debacle instantly forgotten, Eren chuckled before saying, “No, I don’t.”

“_Hmm. So what did you do?_” Levi paused. “_Or, what do you want?_”

Those words prompted Eren to remember Levi’s odd behavior. The brunet frowned and said, “_You’re _the one acting weirdly, by the way.”

“_Oh?_” Levi didn’t even sound perturbed by the accusation. Stranger yet.

“You answered the call much too quickly,” Eren explained, “and you’re not being pissy about it.”

“_Grown men don’t get ‘pissy’ about things, Eren, as I’ve told you numerous times before. Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about._”

Red flags were going up in Eren’s mind. Levi was acting differently, which was particularly odd for a man that lived by a schedule so strict that he had a schedule for when he would take a shit every day. While Eren would never entertain the thought that Levi was being unfaithful – if Eren ever thought that he was monogamous to a fault, then Levi had to be monogamous by design – the thought did flit across his mind. He would never bring it up, and instead stayed silent as he pondered the reason for Levi’s weird behavior.

“_So why did you call?_” Levi asked when Eren didn’t speak. “_It’s not like you to randomly call during the day._”

_And it’s not like you to not get pissed off about it, _Eren thought, but said nothing of it as he checked the time. It was 15:37, which was still well within business hours, but late enough for a call not to be too strange.

Deciding to leave it be, Eren said, “Pixis threw a going-away party for me.”

“_Oh?_” Levi replied. He didn’t sound surprised. “_Are you calling to tell me that you’ll be coming home late tonight, and in an Uber?_”

Eren chuckled. Levi knew him too damn well. “Yeah, well…I was actually hoping you’d join.”

“_And what, pray tell, would I do while you and a gang of self-righteous fixed-wing brats get drunk off cheap beer?_”

Looking over at his peers, Eren smiled. They were laughing, Hitch at the center of a group of guys and most likely the reason for the uproar. Daz and Gelgar stood by the braai with Pixis, laughing as well. Mina sat alone, but she was as involved in the laughter as the rest of them. As much as Levi was right in that 104th was a fraternity, this that they were doing was relatively normal.

“We’re having a souvla braai,” Eren said.

“_A what now?_”

“Souvla braai. It’s like uhm…there’s like eight huge kebabs of meat being turned by a big motor and a chain through the kebab sticks to cook the meat.”

Levi hummed. “_And what meat is it?_”

“Lamb.”

If there was one thing Levi loved, it was lamb. The man was quite the carnivore, but lamb was one thing that was always a notch above the rest. He didn’t indulge too much, citing cholesterol as the problem – Eren rolled his eyes at his old-man qualms – but enjoyed it nonetheless.

“I can also ask Hange to come,” Eren offered. “I have a feeling a lot of people from the airport are going to be here.”

“_And I suppose you’re going to The Wall afterwards?_”

“Yeah,” Eren said. “You don’t have to stay for that though. I’ll get an Uber home.”

A moment of silence passed then. Eren could only guess that Levi was weighing up his options, or simply considering if he would come or not. He wouldn’t be upset or offended if the man didn’t come, but he would be grateful. He didn’t have to say it though; Levi knew this.

“_I’ll see what I can do, alright?_” Levi eventually said.

“Awesome!” Eren cried out, knowing that that was a yes. “See you soon! I love you!”

“_Yeah, yeah,_” Levi said, chuckling. “_See you soon._”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Eren came trotting back to his friends to announce that “the boss” would likely be joining them for a late lunch and a beer, but as he came around the corner once again, said boss was standing there, looking smug amongst the very people he hated drinking with. Everyone laughed at Eren’s unabashed mouth-gaping awe; even Pixis snickered along with the youngsters as they stared at Eren.

“What the fuck is this?” Eren asked, looking Levi straight in the eye.

Smirking, Levi simply said, “The boss is here.”

The laughter only escalated then, as Eren was torn between feeling embarrassed and feeling damn happy that Levi had actually come. That was when he realized that Levi’s odd behavior was because the man was already here when Eren had called. Funny, Eren thought, that a secret so small threw Levi’s behavior off as much as it did. Reassuring, more like it.

“Fucking sneaky bastard,” Eren said to Levi, grinning as he walked up to his lover to hug him.

“Told you Levi is the boss,” Hitch said, handing both men a beer with a wicked grin plastered on her face.

* * *

Two AM and the bar was still full of patrons who did not look like they would be heading home any time soon. Music from a bygone era played through speakers so old that it perverted the sound, yet somehow that only added to the character of the aviation-themed pub. Several small groups of people had converged into one, standing loosely around the braai outside, which was packed with so much meat one would think the young men and women hadn’t eaten in days. A few smaller groups congregated inside, some seated around various arrangements of tables and stools, some by the bar, and some by the pool table. Pilots, both fixed and rotor wing, drank in harmony alongside air traffic controllers and even maintenance engineers. Alcohol had the uncanny ability to bring people together in harmony.

Eren was in the middle of what had to have been his twentieth pool game for the night. He was proudly wearing the watch Pixis had given him as a farewell gift, but by now the heavy emotions of the charged farewell speech the old man had delivered was long forgotten thanks to the kiss of sweet brandy and cola.

In fact, much was forgotten – including Levi, who was sitting at the bar with Hange, watching his lover kick ass on the table. Despite having vehemently protested against joining the afterparty, reasoning with a drunk Eren and an enthusiastic Hange proved impossible. Thus Levi found himself at this deplorable pub, sipping subpar whiskey as he tried to stay as far away from the ruckus as possible.

A loud cheer erupted from the table and Levi smirked as he saw Eren pocketing a ball in the side pocket with a neat cut. How the brat could still play such fine shots after drinking as much as he had, the universe alone would know. Nevertheless, Levi was impressed.

Hitch gave Eren a high-five so powerful the slap resonated through the bar, and Hange laughed beside Levi. Ignoring her, Levi sipped his whiskey and watched with keen eyes as Eren bent over to take a shot at the black ball, giving Levi more than an eyeful.

“Are you actually interested in the game, or are you just perving over your man’s ass?” Hange asked.

Levi just clicked his tongue, but it was lost to the music. Eren sunk the black ball effortlessly in a corner pocket, leaving Gelgar and Henning brooding over their second consecutive loss. What amused Levi was that neither man had drunk more than two beers, whereas Hitch and Eren had been knocking back shots of Jaegermeister and over-indulging in brandy and cola, and they were still by far the better players. It just showed that the two were old bar hands, and Levi could attest to that.

Eren had come home one too many nights drunk, caught between apologies for his conduct and bragging about how he and Hitch had wrecked everyone at the pub.

“Alright, who’s next?” Eren called out loud, arms spread as if he were king of the world.

For a moment, there was no reply. Eren looked a little disappointed, eyes scanning the area in search of his next victim. Then, just as he was about to call for a challenger again, the brutish blond that Levi had just never gotten along with came barreling into the bar, finger pointed at Eren as if he were out for blood.

“Yeager!” the blond called, eyes crazed. “It’s you and me, boy!”

“Reiner!” Eren called back, grinning smugly. “I see you want to get your ass whipped _again_.”

Reiner snorted and grabbed a cue stick. “This is our last dance, baby, so I’m going to make you swing.”

Hange leaned into Levi and said, “This is going to be a long night.”

Humming in agreement, Levi knocked back the rest of his drink before hailing the barman for another double. He may have begrudgingly agreed to come here, but it did not mean that he wanted to be here. The least he could do was make it bearable for himself, and try and drink until the noise started to subside. Hell, with this shitty whiskey, that might happen sooner rather than later.

“He’s having a lot of fun,” Hange said, smiling fondly. “It must be hard for him to be leaving all of this behind.”

Something snapped into place in Levi’s mind then, and as he watched Eren shoot a perfect break that saw two balls being pocketed, Levi realized that he’d been more than just a demeaning asshole that thought Eren was after a thrill. The weekend past had reformed him, and Levi had realized and admitted that he’d been inconsiderate to Eren’s career and his passion for flight. This, however, put things into a whole new light.

All this time, it had been Levi’s fears, Levi’s insecurities. Never once had he considered the implications of Eren’s decisions beyond his safety. Never before had Levi realized that Eren was giving up a hell of a lot to pursue his dream. Eren had never said it in as many words, but seeing it now, Levi realized that Eren was sacrificing his entire life for this.

Hell, the kid had never left the country before. In fact, Eren had hardly even travelled within Eldia. All he’d ever known was Karanese and its surrounds – all his friends were here; the entirety of his emotional support was in this city and this young man was so driven to succeed in his career that he was willing to leave it all behind. To go to war-torn hellholes, nonetheless. Not once had Levi considered what Eren was sacrificing to better himself and further his career, not once had the man thought about how Eren was feeling about it all. Looking at his brat, he could understand why Eren was getting drunk with his friends; to Eren this was the last time he’d be able to do this. After this, he was no longer one of _them_. He could no longer call this airport his home. The airport where it all began for him, would no longer be his to operate from.

After tonight, there would be a clear divide between him and the people he called his friends.

For the first time ever, Levi wondered if Eren was _really _okay with leaving all of this behind. It had never occurred to him that maybe Eren wasn’t – Eren spoke highly of his new job and was excited to begin, and had advocated for it to the nth degree and beyond just to get Levi to understand what he was doing, but never once had he hinted that he’d be sad to move on. To Levi, Eren was simply going to the next tier, but the reality was that Eren was going to be moving further away from his friends, operationally and emotionally, than he was physically. And that had never come up in their conversations because their arguments had been so centric to Eren’s safety, that Eren’s emotional wellbeing was never a factor.

In this moment, Levi felt like a dick for never even considering that.

What if Eren was lying in saying that this was a job he’d always wanted? Not lying to Levi, but lying to himself…to make the pill easier to swallow.

Yet through it all, Levi had done nothing but add more stress. Of course Eren wouldn’t open up about his feelings when Levi was always seeking out reasons to dissuade him from working in Marley. So because of his own insufferable selfishness, Eren had been left to suffer.

Levi clenched his jaw as he realized just how much of an asshole he’d been to Eren. All he wanted to do was go up to his man and apologize, hell, beg for forgiveness, but he remained rooted in place. Now was not the place or the time for that.

When Eren bent over the table to take a shot, their eyes met. Guilt almost had Levi avert his eyes, but he forced himself to look into eyes of the man he loved and had wronged, and just for the sake of not spoiling Eren’s night, he wouldn’t show what he was thinking. So when Eren grinned at him, he offered Eren a small smile, which satisfied the brunet. Eren went on to play his shot. He missed, and Reiner wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Do you remember how you chased after him?” Hange suddenly asked. She chuckled. “You were such a dog.”

Levi snorted. How could he forget? He cringed at the memory of how he’d behaved; possessive, entitled, irrational, unreasonable, manipulative, and borderline abusive. He was no better than a Neanderthal running after the first thing to put its dick into. It was embarrassing to think he had done some of the things he had done, but unfortunately, he couldn’t change the past. He could just count his lucky stars that Eren hadn’t shut him off for his horrible behavior, and had in fact encouraged him to learn to manage his emotions better. The years of seeing the doctor had helped, just as they had when he was with Rico.

Yet another testament to how she’d fucked his life up – he’d stopped seeing his doctor for years after they split, which caused severe regression – but he refused to entertain those vengeful thoughts any longer.

“Well, you had to have done something right,” Hange continued when Levi didn’t answer. “You got him in the end.”

A noncommittal hum vibrated in the man’s throat, which Hange didn’t stand a chance of hearing over the music. He reached back for his drink and took a large sip, eyes still on his lover.

True to his words, Eren was whipping Reiner’s ass. He only had two balls left on the table and Reiner was yet to sink one, blaming his drunkenness on his inability to play decently. Eren simply countered that by listing off all the alcohol he’d consumed, which Reiner just waved off with a simple, “Yeah, but you flyboys have the liver of fucking oxen.”

It was a weird thing to be proud of, Levi thought, but seeing Eren display such prowess on the pool table was gratifying. That was _his_ man, _his _Eren. A part of him wanted to challenge his man, but even he, who could play a decent game of pool, felt like he would fall short to Eren tonight. Levi would be damned if he was seen losing to his brat in such a common pub.

“You’re totally going to marry him,” Hange said, a slight squeal in her voice. “I can see it now! Epic proposal…because you have to over-fucking-do everything, a grand wedding…”

“Shut up, four-eyes!” Levi snapped.

Surprisingly, Hange complied, and glanced up at her friend. If Levi’s words hadn’t stunned her into silence, his expression would have: it as soft. Levi was gazing upon Eren as if the man would evaporate at any minute, looking at him as if he were the last treasure on the planet. Not only had Hange never seen Levi look at someone like that before, but she had never imagined he ever would.

“Can I be your maid of honor?” Hange asked with a smile.

Finally, Levi tore his eyes off his man and glanced at Hange, unimpressed. “I think Eren would want Mikasa for that.”

“Well, a bridesmaid then?” Hange tried.

“That’s Eren’s jurisdiction.”

“And what if _you’re _the bride?” Hange teased, grinning slyly.

Levi glared at Hange, causing her grin to widen. As with many of their friends and acquaintances, Hange was part of – if not, the leader of – the movement of trying to guess who was the top and who was the bottom in their relationship. While most people quietly commented on the matter, Hange had brazenly asked…as did Erwin. The latter had gotten an answer; Erwin and Armin were the only two that knew just how versatile the two lovers were, and the only reason they had that privilege was because both Eren and Levi knew the two blonds wouldn’t speak of their private affairs…and they were best friends to the lovers, and best friends talk. So that left the rest guessing, and despite both men failing to see the fascination behind what they did in bed, they had to admit that it was entertaining.

Some people believed that Eren was strictly top because he was an outgoing, confident and a dominant person. Also, the fact that he was bigger in stature than Levi made people assume that that was how the puzzle fitted. Those that were Team Levi felt that Levi topped because he was older, more experienced, unquestioningly dominant and a man that liked to be in control.

Very few people pegged them as versatile, which was hilarious to both Eren and Levi, so they let them continue. They agreed that they would never reveal the truth.

“If I am, you’re not going to be _my_ maid of honor or fucking bridesmaid,” Levi said. He took a quick sip of his drink, watching Eren sink yet another ball. Levi then turned his whole body to Hange and fixed her with an icy glare. “If I had it my way, you wouldn’t even be invited to the fucking wedding.”

“Asshole,” Hange said with a pout.

Levi smirked. “You know it.”

Just then, loud cheers erupted from around the pool table. Eren had won yet again, and was already drinking a shot of that godawful Jaegermeister. How that boy could stomach that shit was beyond Levi. It tasted like cough medicine, and when cold, it had the syrupy consistency of it as well. For the longest time, Levi thought the only reason Eren liked it was because of his surname – yes, the brat was _that_ egotistical – but had later come to realize Eren only drank it as a substitute shot because he struggled to stomach tequila…much like himself and Jaegermeister. Levi shuddered at the vivid memory of the very many Jaegerbombs he’d stomached (and spewed out) in his youth.

That shit was the devil’s piss, he’d said one too many times.

After a round of high-fives, Eren laid his cue stick down, ignoring the boos of the crowd that wanted to see him play some more. Levi watched as the brunet then bounded towards him with the glee of a puppy seeing its owner after being separated for days. He raised his brows and parted his legs as Eren innocently wiggled in between them, before reaching up and giving Levi a kiss so ungracefully it was more like a soft headbutt. Levi’s hands immediately found purchase on Eren’s hips, steadying the swaying brunet as they kissed.

“You having fun, brat?” Levi whispered against Eren’s lips.

Eren nodded before going in for another kiss that Levi could not deny him. Even though it was sloppy, it was his Eren.

“Awh!” Hange crooned. “Look at you guys!”

Eren laughed and lolled his head to the side, glancing at Hange. “Stop watching, you perv.”

Instead of respond, Hange raised her hands in surrender before turning her attention back to the bar, quickly setting to work hailing the barman for another drink.

“How the fuck did you get her to listen so easily?” Levi asked with a frown.

“My youthful charm, old man,” Eren said with a cheeky grin, before giving Levi a quick kiss on the cheek. Levi cocked a brow. “You know, that same charm that had you running after me like a bitch in heat.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Levi growled, smacking Eren’s ass. A few ‘whoops’ sounded in the bar, but the brunet only laughed. Levi offered no argument; Eren’s words were true.

“Thank you for coming.” Eren’s voice was suddenly low, tone sincere. “It means a lot to me.”

Levi didn’t like going out, much less so to places like this; grungy and noisy, with smoke hanging thick in the air, mingling with the stench of debauchery. While this particular pub didn’t have the usual brand of debauchery, Levi still hated it – every time Eren came here, he stayed out late and got drunk. Not only was it the cheap drinks, but also the company Eren kept while here; every single one of these aviation brats loved to drink. He had no business being amongst them…but for Eren, he would do it.

“Someone had to keep you in check,” Levi responded.

Eren smiled. That was as close to a “you’re welcome” as he was going to get. Even though Levi had kept mostly to himself all night, he hadn’t once behaved irritably or appeared exasperated…any more than usual, at the very least. Having Hange here seemed to relax him some, but he would _never _admit to that. Eren pretended not to notice, and swore to himself to never bring it up.

Instead, Eren said, “You’re doing a shitty job. I’m pretty drunk.”

“Oh?” Levi smirked, leaning into Eren, allowing his lips to brush against the younger man’s ears. The light touch had Eren shudder and his hands, resting on Levi’s thighs, squeezed slightly. “Maybe I want you drunk so I can take advantage of you.”

The grip on Levi’s thighs only tightened. It was now Eren who had his lips moving against Levi’s ear, and when he spoke his voice was low and raspy. “You could do whatever you want with me, Levi, even if I am stone cold sober.”

“Is that so?”

Eren’s one hand inched up along Levi’s thigh. The motion had Levi tensing, but just as Eren’s fingers brushed dangerously closed to Levi’s groin, he stopped. Levi was as frustrated as he was relieved. “Would you like me to show you?”

“You aren’t stone cold sober,” Levi retorted, but his voice was weak. Eren smirked at this.

“I will be when you’re done with me.”

* * *

Five years of this, and it never stopped feeling good.

Parked on a dark, remote stretch of dirt road behind the hangar, Eren was bent over the hood of Levi’s car with his pants just below his ass. Levi, who had only undone his zipper to free himself, fucked Eren from behind with the vigor of a man only seeking his own satisfaction. In a haze of alcoholic splendor, Eren’s body was lax and receptive, and took Levi in with little preparation. Stripped of his inhibitions, the brunet let Levi fuck him hard from the get go; he just wanted to be filled and get off, just as Levi only sought to cum. There was no sensuality in the act, just raw, lust-filled fucking.

Feeling himself filled, Eren wanted to cry out like a wanton whore as Levi’s thrusts pressed his clothed chest to the cool metal of the car’s hood. Instead, he bit into his hand, stifling his moans as Levi’s cock brushed against his prostate with a crippling pressure that would none too soon milk him of his essence. Still, he pushed back, body begging Levi to take what rightfully belonged to him.

And take Levi did. Hands on Eren’s hips, he kept up a quick pace. The snapping back and forth of his hips was purposeful, a man with only one goal in mind: orgasm. And out in the open, in the middle of the night, where one sweep of a security guard’s flashlight could uncover them, the thrill drove Levi to the edge within minutes.

Levi came without warning, filling his young lover with his essence, and he was so lost in his own orgasm that he hadn’t realized he’d milked Eren as well. Eren’s ejaculate rand down the side of the car’s fender, soiling his underwear and trousers, but Eren didn’t care. He didn’t care that when Levi pulled out of him, cum leaked from his ass and ran down his thighs as he quickly dressed himself. In fact, he loved it – he loved it when Levi marked him like that.

Neither man said a word as Eren got into the passenger side and Levi into the driver’s. Levi had no intention of driving that night, but the romp in the cool air had left him sober as a judge…and hungry for more.

After speeding home, the two were on each other again. Lips smacking against one another with no coordination, tongues ravenously seeking the flesh of the other, and clothes being torn from their bodies from the moment the car stopped in the garage. They hadn’t made it passed the living room, and Levi was buried inside Eren again, fucking the brunet for all he was worth.

Had Eren been sober, he would have felt Levi’s fear, his desperation, and his heartfelt plea for forgiveness. He would have felt that Levi was not just fucking him, but that Levi was desperately trying to drink in all of him before the inevitable. Every thrust, though driven by pure greed and need, was so filled with unspoken words that it would leave both men overwhelmed, had it been a sober night. It wasn’t, however, and with Eren being driven into the rug, shoulders burning as his skin was torn open, to him it was just pure fucking.

They hadn’t even bothered with showering after their tryst. Eren stumbled to bed with his pants around his ankles, cum and lube smeared on the inside of his thighs, and passed out on top of the duvet. Levi, completely bare and glistening with sweat, passed out beside his lover with an arm draped over the younger man possessively. They slept jaggedly that night, waking periodically to fuck over and over. Levi topped every time, without negotiation. Eren happily opened himself up to his lover, letting Levi devour every part of him as he pleased.

It was like they were two teens who had just discovered sex. They couldn’t get enough of each other. Every time a hand accidentally wandered too low, even when asleep, they would end up kissing and eventually fucking. Half asleep most of the time, Eren would take it in whatever way Levi would give it; sometimes they would just spoon with Levi nestled inside Eren, thrusting lazily until one of them reached completion, while other times Eren would ride Levi with the enthusiasm of a porn star.

Levi knew he would be sore and exhausted the next day, but he didn’t care. A deep part of him feared that this would be his last night with Eren like this, his last night of uninhabited ecstasy throughout the night.

If only he knew how right he was, he’d never let the night end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Braai: A barbeque with wood or charcoal. The word "braai" comes from Afrikaans, one of South Africa's official languages.
> 
> Souvla Braai: A barbeque with multiple kebabs that are usually driven by a motor to keep them turning over the coals.
> 
> Braai-tongs: Meat claspers? Not sure if this is something that needs explanation...
> 
> CFI: Chief Flying Instructor.
> 
> CGI: Chief Ground Instructor.
> 
> Thanks for the read :)
> 
> OS


	6. D-Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> Firstly, thank you for the support you have all given me thus far...it is truly wonderful to know you are enjoying it! Secondly, I'd like to apologize for the lull in posting, I haven't been in space where I could post.
> 
> Please enjoy :)

D-Day. Deployment Day. It had finally come.

The weeks leading up to this day had been arduous, at best. Throughout his life, Eren had done a lot of work – not only had he fought to overcome adversity, but throughout school and even after school, he had to work just a little harder than his peers for decent results. He may not had been the most book-smark boy growing up, but he was motivated enough to work for what he wanted. Even after he qualified as an instructor, he worked his ass off, some days coming very close to the maximum hours an instructor may fly in one day. Even in the times where he’d worked himself to the bone, he’d never worked as much as he had in these last few weeks.

In just twenty-one days, Eren had gone from a man who barely had an idea of the workings of a turbine engine to one qualified to fly it. After only eighteen hours of simulator training – only eight of which was actually in the full-replica, full-motion simulator – he was now qualified to carry passengers and cargo on an aircraft that weighed a flirt over seventeen-thousand pounds when full. Eighteen hours might not seem like much, but by maximizing the use of every single second of that time, Eren had trained in every conceivable emergency that could occur on the aircraft…and had mastered them all.

But the training wasn’t only in the simulator.

Every waking moment was committed to practicing and perfecting every procedure, flow and check, whether normal, abnormal or emergency. For twenty-one days, Eren spent up to ten hours a day at the training facility, and another four hours every evening rehearsing briefings and practicing. Practicing and practicing, until even Levi felt like he would be able to fly the 1900D is push came to shove.

It went without saying that Eren had been a little distant in the weeks leading up to today. It would be a lie to say Levi wasn’t irked by this – after all, this was the final countdown before Eren would leave – but he did his best to support his lover. At the very least, their issues had been resolved, for which Levi had never been more thankful. He could only imagine the disastrous fight that would ensue if they were still fighting _and _Eren was being as distant as he had been. Hell, the man was even absentminded in their lovemaking, and had the physical satisfaction not been as good as it had, Levi would’ve surely blown a gasket at that.

Eren promised it would get better. _It’s just until I test, _he’d assured. And true to his word, the day he tested, everything went back to normal. He walked into the house that night, donning his full uniform with a neat Windsor-knot tie to boot, jubilating that he was now the newest rated 1900D pilot in the country. Their lovemaking that night made up for the previous three weeks and then some.

With just a few more courses to do before deployment, the final few days before D-Day were exponentially easier. Eren and Levi settled back into their familiar routine, with Levi arranging his meetings so that he could spend at much time at home with Eren as possible. The slower pace even afforded the couple a quick midweek getaway, and for the sake of nostalgia, they spent a couple of nights at Stohess Country Club and Spa.

There, they relived the night that changed Levi’s perception of Eren. The night where Levi had every intention of shamelessly seducing the brunet into bed, but had rather spent the night comforting a broken man. It was the night when Levi had transitioned from predator to protector, the night that solidified that his yearning for Eren wasn’t purely physical, but driven by a deeper need as well.

It was the night he realized that he was falling, if he had already not fallen, in love with Eren.

Needless to say, this time the couple spent every waking moment naked and devouring one another, seemingly trying to work eight weeks’ worth of potential need out of their systems.

Try as they may, they could never bring the hands of time to a standstill. Inevitably, the day came where Eren would have to leave. And as much as Levi wanted to spend the day with his lover, he couldn’t; Eren had to go to Titan’s offices to complete the sign-out procedure, robbing Levi of his precious last day.

To say the businessman was in a foul mood because of that was an understatement. In fact, his PA had begged him to go home after only being at the office for one hour that morning.

Eren, on the other hand, spent his morning signing out alongside Boris Feulner, fellow cadet and simulator partner during his training. While the pair never particularly got along socially, when they shared a cockpit, it was magical. Three different instructors had said that watching the pair work together was like watching an expertly orchestrated ballet, and both Eren and Boris took great pride in those compliments.

It was not that Eren didn’t like Boris or that Boris didn’t like Eren. The silvery-blond haired man (Eren was convinced it was dyed, but Boris insisted it was natural) was just not someone that a person with Eren’s high energy levels could socially interact with. He was more passive than Levi (if that was even possible, Eren mused), and his pale yellow eyes just never seemed to find interest in anything. He barely laughed, and it seemed that he had absolutely no interests outside of aviation. While Eren was happy to talk planes with any enthusiast, it wasn’t _all_ he wanted to talk about. Boris seemed to know everything about anything that had ever flown, to the point where his knowledge was intimidating. Whether it be warbird history or current economical affairs in aviation companies, Boris was in the know. Hell, the man even knew about Colossus’ attempt at entering the airborne weapons industry.

Nevertheless, the pair had an amazing working dynamic, and Eren was grateful that he’d been partnered with Boris.

“Just one more stop and we can go,” Boris said, scanning the sign-out form.

That one more stop was the finance lady, where they would receive money for their respective deployments.

“The fun stop,” Eren said with a grin. He wondered how much money he would be getting.

Boris chuckled at that, and Eren would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised. Perhaps this cyborg did have human emotions after all…

“When are you flying out?” Boris asked.

“Tonight,” Eren answered. “You?”

“Same. Around seven. I assume you have a late flight?”

Eren huffed a laugh. “Midnight. How did you guess?”

Smirking knowingly, Boris said, “I’ve been around the block a couple of times.”

That was what made Boris a phenomenal partner. While his total time was significantly lower than Eren’s, most of his time was on turbine aircraft, and he had considerable experience in working in multi-crew environments. He’d even worked out of the country before, doing land survey work in Hizuru for a few months.

His resume was impressive at best.

After they’d received their money, the two walked in comfortable silence to their respective cars. As soon as they were outside, Boris lit a cigarette, and Eren was sorely tempted to ask him for one. Now that he’d been officially cleared out, the reality that in less than twelve hours he’d be on a plane heading to a war-torn country was nauseating.

It’s not like he didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Hell, he knew _exactly_ what was going on in Marley, even though a lot of those details weren’t need-to-know. It’s not like he wasn’t prepared for it, and it was not like he had been naïve enough to think that he, as a civilian pilot, would be protected from the violence that ran rife in Marley. He’d researched it, prepared for it mentally and physically, and couldn’t be more ready to deploy than he was in that moment.

But now that he was actually cleared, it seemed surreal.

All he had to do was finish packing, and then head to the airport. There was no more training, no more chitchat…Eren was a fully-fledged Titan pilot now. And as one, he would be going to Marley.

The most dangerous country in the world.

People died there every single day. Not from accidents or crime, but because of the war. Cold-blooded murder, war crimes. Terrorism.

He sighed as he and Boris stood side by side between their cars. His eyes flitted to the half-smoked cigarette Boris held, and he shook his head. No. he wouldn’t do it.

“You excited to go?” Boris asked.

Eren snorted. “To fly, yes. To be in Marley, no.”

Boris smirked. “Glad I dodged that one.”

Titan had scheduled Boris in Hizuru because he had been there before. His visa was still valid.

“Yeah, well…someone has to do it,” Eren said with a shrug.

Taking a particularly long drag of his cigarette, Boris regarded Eren for a moment. Eren would never know it, but Boris wouldn’t have minded going to Marley…the contract there flew considerably more hours per tour than the one in Hizuru. But considering the fact that Eren’s total time was already what Wings Aviation wanted, it made sense to get his turbine hours as quickly as possible. If things in Marley picked up, as it was predicted to, then Eren would only have to do three or four tours before he would be drafted into WA as a first officer. No more contract, no more war-torn countries, just regular scheduled airline flying…exactly what he wanted to do. Exactly what Levi wanted him to do.

“It’ll be fine,” Boris said. “I’m sure you’ll actually grow to like it.”

Eren chuckled. “I’m crazy, but I’m not insane.”

A thin brow raised as Boris eyed Eren skeptically. “Arguable.”

Eren smiled as he considered what Boris might be referring to. It was their first session in the full-motion simulator, and they had been practicing unusual attitudes. The instructor would tell the student – Eren, in this case – to close his eyes, and then the instructor would put the “plane” into an unusual attitude – nose high, nose low, wings banked at near ninety-degrees – and Eren would have to recover within seconds with only the information on his instruments. He’d asked for more, and the more he asked, the more extreme the situations became. It was no lie that he loved the exercise, despite the uncomfortable tilt of the machine. Perhaps it was because of that, Boris had reckoned, but never mentioned it.

Another drag, and then another, before Boris threw the bud on the ground and toed at it to extinguish the coal. “At least it’s not a dry contract.”

_The only perk, _Eren thought. Hizuru was a dry contract, which meant the crew wasn’t allowed to drink at all while on tour.

“Yep,” Eren said, popping the ‘p’.

“Anyway, let me be off,” Boris said. He held his hand out, and Eren shook it. “Good luck over there. Fly safe.”

“You too,” Eren said. He realized then that this would be the last time he’d see Boris. Perhaps they would bump into each other when they signed back, or maybe they would see one another at the quarterly pilot meeting, or perhaps in training in the future. He tried not to feel sad about their parting, but after having trained together as intensively as they had, it felt kind of weird to be saying goodbye so…impersonally. “I’ll uh, see you around.”

Boris smirked half-heartedly. “Yeah, see ya.”

With that, Boris got into his car. Within seconds, he was out of the parking space and driving off, leaving Eren alone.

Eren stood beside his car for a minute before he drew a deep breath and got inside. He wondered why the hell he was feeling sad about parting with a man he’d never considered more than an acquaintance at best. Boris had only come into his life a month ago, yet he was feeling deep sorrow for parting. He shook his head, feeling pathetic for harboring feelings of attachment and sentimentality just because Boris was the man he’d trained with for his initial turbine rating.

Driving off, that heavy feeling in Eren’s chest only further weighed him down. Only now, it wasn’t just because of his quick goodbye with Boris. It wasn’t because he had some outlandish attachment to the man or what his presence symbolized. As Eren drove, the realization of what it was hit him like a ton of bricks.

It was the deep unsettling feeling of a loss of familiarity.

On the drive home, Eren realized that he was looking at everything through different eyes. The roadworks that had frustrated him so on his journey to the office was now a sign of progression, a sign that the city of Karanese was building…not being destroyed. The sheer vastness of rolling plains of grasslands and trees on either side of the highway was nothing more than inconsequential space before this moment; now, it was home. It was a sheer vastness he recognized, a space where nature still coexisted with development…not a place where enemies could be hiding. The people walking alongside the freeway – just this morning they were a nuance and Eren couldn’t conceive the reason why people would walk alongside a road where cars drove so fast, but now, they weren’t just people. They were _his_ people. They were Eldians.

This was the country he knew and loved. _His _country, _his _countrymen. A life he would be leaving behind, however short his tours might be.

Eren wasn’t naïve enough to believe that this job wouldn’t change him as a person. The truth in that thought was farther reaching than he could even imagine.

For the first time ever, he wondered if he was making a grave mistake.

Sighing, he said to himself, “It’s for the hours. I need this.”

* * *

When Eren arrived at home that afternoon, Levi was already waiting for him. The two made love with a passion that had both men in tears, as utterances of reassurances and promises were breathed melodically amidst their lovemaking. Something in Levi’s heart made him feel like this was the last time he’d ever touch Eren like this, and while the rational part of his mind knew it was ridiculous to entertain that thought, it was still terrifying. Something about this day seemed to ring with finality, and because Levi never mentioned it, he would never know that Eren was feeling the same.

He could never imagine that both of them were right.

Levi felt like there was so much left unsaid. So much yet to be done. For starters, he was kicking himself in the ass for never having proposed to Eren. They’d spoken about it once or twice, but today Levi felt like he’d missed the opportunity. He felt as though he’d never have the chance to take an arrow to the knee. Should he just have gotten the damned pet Eren wanted? Perhaps he should have just bought the coffee machine Eren had been eyeing but could never afford.

He wasn’t a man that believed in regret – for all things happen for a reason and all choices are a part of that reason – but for the first time in a long time, he had started regretting the little things.

And he let it show as he and Eren made love. For once, Levi hid behind no wall, and he let everything out. Every single emotion – joy, elation, fear, worry, pain…it all came out as he held his lover, as they moved as one. And for once, Levi didn’t feel weak when his tears fell onto Eren’s skin.

At the end of the day, no matter how much Levi wanted to protect his younger lover from the world, he would never be able to reign in the free spirit of Eren Yeager. That man was made to traverse the skies and to explore the world, and to deny him that would be as cruel as caging in a wild beast. So, with heavy hearts, the two eventually got into Levi’s car for the final drive to the airport, a drive that was filled with a suffocating silence that not even the blaring of the radio could break.

At the airport, Armin, Erwin and Mikasa met them for dinner. Jean had said he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his much-needed “beauty sleep” for the likes of Yeager, and had thus opted not to come along. Ordinarily, Eren wouldn’t take it personally. Hell, he wouldn’t care about it at all, but today it hurt; he was disappointed by Jean’s absence. He idly wondered if his disappointment was because there had been a shift in his relationship with Jean since the man had stood up for him against Mikasa…but then again, he’d be a fool to think that isolated incident meant anything. Jean was just being, well…Jean; blunt, and always looking for a place to have his say.

His thoughts only further drove home how fragile he was feeling, how stupidly sentimental he’d become about everything and everyone, and that irritated Eren, further spoiling his already gloomy mood.

He shifted the fries around on his plate, in no mood to eat it or the bacon and avocado tramezzini that he’d ordered. Despite hardly having eaten all day, he simply couldn’t summon his appetite, and in any event, he’d be eating on the plane in a few hours. If he could force anything down his throat, that is. The metaphorical lump lodged there seemed to have grown, its presence as real as the people around him. He feared that if he even swallowed another sip of water, he would lose what little was in his stomach.

The urge to smoke had Eren’s fingers trembling slightly, and despite having a pack in his bag, he wouldn’t dare smoke in front of Erwin…or Levi, for that matter. His lover would skin him alive.

“Eren?” Mikasa called.

He slowly, dazedly raised his head, eyes unfocused as they met with Mikasa’s.

“Erwin’s talking to you,” Mikasa said.

With a frown, Eren turned his attention to the blond man, imploring him to repeat himself.

“How are you feeling?” Erwin asked, completely unfazed by Eren’s lack of attention.

Eren’s lips trembled as he forced a smile. “Nervous.”

Erwin smiled and patted his cadet on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Eren.”

“Well, I can either live or die,” Eren said, intending for it to sound good, but both Levi and Mikasa scowled at him. Levi squeezed his thigh under the table. Eren chuckled nervously and said, “I mean, that’s the only two possible outcomes with everything, isn’t it?”

Erwin smiled. He was the only one that seemed to appreciate Eren’s logic, as flawless as it was. Even Armin shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Eren,” Erwin said, capturing the undivided attention of the brunet. “When we met in that restaurant, what, six years ago, I never thought you would grow from my cadet to someone in my inner circle of friends.” His gaze flickered to Levi, but no one saw it.

Eren was captivated, mind momentarily wandering to that fateful meeting. It was an ordinary day, an ordinary shift. He was working with Sasha that day. He would never forget the gentleman that came in, screaming wealth, and he did his best to serve the man, hoping for a big tip. Oh, he got the big tip, and a foot in the door to one of the most coveted cadet schemes in aviation.

“Yet here we sit, not just as recruiter and cadet, but as friends,” Erwin continued. “And, as your cadet manager, I am telling you that this is an opportunity that you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere else in the world.” Eren nodded at this; there was no lie in Erwin’s words. “But as your friend, I want to tell you that this is a good opportunity for you to grow as an aviator, and as a man, as a person. I know it’s frightening, but if there is anyone who can overcome this, it is you.”

Eren smiled, nodding as he mouthed his thanks, throat too dry to talk. Hyperaware of everything around him, he noticed how Levi had stilled while Erwin spoke, and how Mikasa stared off to the side. Armin smiled, albeit half-heartedly. As much as Eren wanted to believe Erwin’s words, he couldn’t help but feel they were just sugar-coating the shitstorm that was awaiting him on the other side of the equator.

Eventually they left the restaurant, and began the long walk to the international departures terminal. Eren and Levi walked hand in hand, with Mikasa hovering close enough to Eren to brush against him every few steps. Erwin and Armin walked behind the group, chatting about inconsequential things. It pissed Levi off; how dare anyone be lighthearted at a time when he was not just losing his world, but walking it to the fucking plane? If he hadn’t vowed to make this easier for Eren, he would have snapped hours ago…but he knew he just had to hold it in for another few hours, and then he could throw his tantrum. Eren was going, and there was nothing he could do about it, but if he made it unpleasant…Levi feared that that would then be the last memory he had of his lover.

When the check-in opened, Eren sighed. The call was muffled, but the flight number was clear, and Eren knew he had to go. Everyone around him stilled, waiting. For just a moment, it seemed like time had stopped as the dreaded moment of truth finally befell the group.

Erwin was the first to move. He extended a hand, which Eren grasped. Erwin’s hand enveloped Eren’s, his shake firm but not overbearing. “Good luck, Eren. Enjoy it, be safe, and Eren…”

When Erwin paused dramatically, Eren was forced to look the man right in the eye. The glint in those dazzling blues was borderline manic, but there was something in that look that Eren liked.

“Fly the hell out of that machine, get the hours, and come back to Wings Aviation. We are waiting for you.”

Eren smiled and said, “Yes, sir!”

Armin was next. Oh, Armin. Friends from boyhood, Eren and Armin had gone through life’s adolescent struggles together, some of which would never leave the fraternity of their sacred brotherhood. Armin was always the smaller one of the two, the weaker one, but he’d grown into his own man. Looking Eren in the eye, he had grown broader over the years, but still maintained a slender physique that Eren liked to tease him about, saying he was a “twink”…but when Armin one day quipped back, “Daddy likes it” Eren promptly stopped his teasing. However, the damage had been done, and Armin was quite pleased with himself for scarring Eren with that image.

“I’m not going to make a scene,” Armin said. His gaze flickered to Mikasa. “I think she’ll cover most of what we all want to say. Just…be safe, okay?”

“I will, Ar,” Eren said with a smile. Fuck, was that the building of tears he was feeling?

“Fly safe, be safe, and don’t go looking for shit,” Armin said, voice taking on a sinister edge at the end. Eren chuckled. “I’m serious, Eren.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eren said, patting his friend on the back. “No funny shit, I promise.”

Armin smiled. “Good. Now, enjoy it, and keep in touch.”

“Of course,” Eren said with a smile.

The two of them embraced briefly, before Eren turned to Mikasa. She shot a glance at Levi, no doubt brooding over the fact that she wouldn’t be the last one to get a goodbye. Years ago, she’d learnt and accepted that Levi was the one Eren would choose if it came to that, and although that realization hurt, Mikasa understood that Eren was simply looking to build his future with the man he loved. However, understanding didn’t mean that she didn’t rue the fact that she came second.

“Be safe,” Mikasa said, as she threw her arms around Eren, squeezing tightly.

Eren chuckled. “Is that it?”

Mikasa squeezed tighter, and Eren heard his back click. Ignoring the ‘oof’ that came from his mouth, Mikasa continued. “Fly safely, by the book. Don’t be an idiot. Respect the people, respect the country and respect their culture. Don’t go looking for shit. Stay away from guns and bombings. Don’t fuck around. Do what you have to do, and get your ass home.”

Eren smiled against Mikasa, squeezing her tighter. Despite their rocky moments, Mikasa really was someone Eren could always rely on. She had been with him through his worst times and his best. Even if she weren’t his adopted sister, he would happily call her such. In fact, he considered her blood, because her loyalty and fierce protection of him was nothing short of what family would do for one another. He would never tell her this, but he would have loved to share this experience with her; at the very least, he knew he would be safe wherever he went.

“Promise me you’ll be okay,” Mikasa whispered.

“I promise,” Eren said. “I won’t do anything stupid. I outgrew my stupid.”

Mikasa huffed. “No you haven’t, Eren.”

Their embrace ended then, and when their eyes met, Mikasa had unshed tears. “I’ve hardly ever seen you cry,” Eren said.

Mikasa punched him lightly in the chest, but the power behind the blow still sent Eren staggering. “Fuck you,” she said.

Eren laughed and rubbed at the spot where she’d hit him. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Eren,” Mikasa said.

He smiled. “Love you too, Mika.”

With that, he turned to Levi. The other three respectfully – although somewhat begrudgingly, in Mikasa’s case – gave the couple a moment of privacy.

Eren stood awkwardly before Levi, the older man looking everywhere except at the younger.

“Levi,” Eren called. Still, Levi wouldn’t lift his gaze. He didn’t want to; he couldn’t. This moment had come too suddenly, and despite all the preparation he’d done, he couldn’t face the fact that this was goodbye. “Hey, Levi.”

When Eren grabbed Levi’s chin and forced him to turn his attention to the brunet, he pinched his eyes shut. It was childish, but a part of him was convinced that if he ignored it, it would go away. This would all just be a dream, and he would wake up tomorrow morning with Eren in his arms and everything would be alright. Eren would go to work early in the morning, text him all day about shitty students, and then come home in the evening to bitch and moan about the incompetence of the next generation of pilots. They would have dinner, watch TV, maybe fuck, and then sleep. And it would all just repeat.

“Open your eyes, dumb shit,” Eren said.

Levi opened his eyes at that, glaring.

The brunet smirked. “Got ya.”

“Did you just call me a dumb shit?” Levi asked.

“I’ll call you much worse things to get you to open those eyes so I can look into them,” Eren said with a smirk.

Levi kneed Eren softly in the thigh, but the brunet barely reacted.

“_You’re_ a dumb shit,” Levi hissed.

Eren chuckled. “Are you going to miss your dumb shit?”

“At least I won’t have any more pain in my ass,” Levi said. He frowned. “Literally.”

Eren nodded with a smile; that was a yes. His thumb stroked along Levi’s jaw, and he loved how the man leaned into his touch. In all the years they’d been together, he’d never called Levi out on these moments, because he knew if the man was aware of it, he’d become self-conscious and stop. Even though Levi had made amazing progress, he still had a long way to go.

“Well, at least I’ll get a nice tight ass when I come back,” Eren quipped, to which Levi responded with another knee in the thigh. Eren laughed.

“I’m going to miss the shit out of you,” Levi said.

“I know,” Eren replied. “I’m going to miss you too.”

Levi took a deep breath. “Mikasa covered everything I wanted to say so I’m just going to say this…”

A dramatic pause followed, where grey and green met. In that moment, Levi and Eren were not just two men that loved one another, but one entity. One being, one soul. It was a moment where Eren realized that whatever he did, whatever happened to him, would affect Levi tenfold. Nothing more needed to be said.

“Be safe,” Levi said.

“I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“No,” Levi shook his head, hands tightening around Eren’s. “Promise me that you’ll come back.”

“Of course I will, Levi,” Eren said, frowning. _As opposed to what? _He thought, but held his tongue. “In eight weeks, I expect you right here,” Eren pointed to the floor, where the international arrivals terminal was, one floor below them, “to pick me up. You have my ticket details. So be there.”

Levi smiled a little. “That’s my Eren.”

Just then, an announcement broke through the hum of the terminal. It was another call for the check-in for Eren’s flight. Both Levi and Eren frowned; time had caught up with them, and now they were forced to say their final goodbye.

For a moment, they just stared at one another, neither one quite sure of what to do. Yet as the seconds ticked on, it was Eren who realized that this was his future, and if he missed this flight, he would be left behind in a dog-eat-dog world that had no place for pilots with thousands of hours on piston aircraft. His future awaited him, but standing right in front of him was another future that he would dedicate the time to working on as soon as he found his success. Yes, that was what he would do; fly until he could hold his own, and the second he got the job at the airlines, he would devote himself to Levi like none other, and the two of them could build their empire together.

Instead of saying he had to leave, Eren grabbed Levi’s face in his hands and brought the man closer so he could kiss him. It was a desperate kiss, a passionate one, and the locking of lips soon turned to the mournful tango of tongues. They kissed for what felt like an eternity, both feeling phantom tears fall down their cheeks. Tears both men knew they’d never shed. Tears their souls cried, not their bodies.

When Eren pulled away, he said, “Eight weeks.”

“Promise?” Levi replied.

“Swear it.”

“I love you, Eren.”

Eren smiled. “I love you too, Levi.”

With that, Eren grabbed his luggage and walked away. His heart ached for him to say more. To elaborate. To make his declaration of love Shakespearean. To hold his lover and kiss and hug until the flight attendants dragged him onto the plane. Yet despite this, Eren knew that the longer he dragged it on, the more it would hurt. Especially for Levi. He had to rip the band-aid off the wound and let Levi bleed. His lover wouldn’t bleed for too long. Levi was strong, and through his time with the man, Eren had learnt that he was too.

It hurt now, but it was only temporary.

He promised; so he would be back.

If only he knew that it wouldn’t be the scheduled eight weeks, Eren might have kissed Levi one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! It's a bit of a transitional chapter so not much happened, but things are going to get more momentum again after this.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts...a writer loves to know what is going on in the minds of their readers, and every comment brightens my day!
> 
> Lots of love  
OS


	7. Marley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for yet another lull in posting. I have rejoined the world of working people and time has been scarce...also, internet access has been severely limited due to constant travelling.
> 
> Hopefully the update schedule will be back on track within the next two to three weeks.
> 
> Other than that, welcome back! Thank you to all of those who took the time to leave a comment, each one really is food for the soul! And those who left kudos, thank you very much as well!
> 
> Please enjoy :)

The flight was uneventful. The layover less so. Going from a Boeing 787 Dreamliner to a Fokker 50 was a pain, at best. Leaving the lap of luxury for the cramped turboprop designed for commuter jobs, Eren found himself no longer with a whole row to himself but rather shoulder to shoulder with a man who had obviously not thought to take a shower that morning. And if the aircraft was not something to cringe about, the service was – the language barrier was one thing, but the cabin crew seemed inherently miserable, and oh, the inflight meal… just a bowl of sloppy, undercooked rice with three small pieces of meat (of questionable origin on top); he closed it right up and decided he’d wait until he was at the base to eat.

Sitting right on the wing by the props, the newly rated turbine-pilot payed close attention to everything the crew did in flight. While he had no experience on the actual aircraft, and knowing that this one was a lot bigger than his own, Eren took everything with a pinch of salt. But it didn’t take an experienced pilot to know that the crew skimmed on some checks that the rookie considered essential, which meant that the entire two-hour flight to Lago was spent in anticipation of falling out of the sky like a rock.

Well, welcome to Marley, Eren thought.

And what a welcome it was.

When the door to that aircraft opened, the clammy air of Marley assaulted Eren so vivaciously that he had to bite his tongue lest he gag. It was hot and humid, and the air had a smell in it that Eren had never smelt before in his life. It didn’t smell particularly repulsive, but it was far from refreshing, which he found strange considering the ocean was but a few hundred feet away. The air was thick not only with humidity but with the desperation and disparity of those living here, a people oppressed and shunned by the world.

He’d been told about it before, but now he understood it.

Eren disembarked and upon entering the terminal, he was shouted at in a foreign language. Officials yelled and tugged at the people filtering into the terminal, and what surprised Eren was the look of absolute apathy on everyone’s faces. It was like they were used to this manhandling, used to the crass language, used to being shoved around. A deep anger welled up inside him and he clenched his fists; how dare someone herd him like he’s nothing more than cattle boarding the truck to the abattoir? How dare someone lay hands on him and yank him around as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll? Then, as he was about to open his mouth to protest, he remembered – this was not his country, and these were not his people.

_Respect the people, respect the culture._

Mikasa’s words echoed in Eren’s mind as he begrudgingly fell in line. He filled out the immigration form without any question, and made his way to the counter to apply for a visa. All he had on him was his passport, his Letter of Invitation, crew card, and the form he’d just filled in. The officials looked skeptical about him being flight crew, but they eventually let him through, and when he passed to baggage collection, he finally met people he knew. His people. Eldians.

He never thought he’d be one of those people that spoke about “his own” but barely half an hour in this hell-hole and Eren understood that there was a very clear divide between _us and them_.

“Eren!” someone called, and when Eren turned, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He couldn’t remember the guy’s name, but he’d seen him before. The tall, slim but fit blond man with a beard and small, round spectacles adorning his eyes was a blessing. He was the guy that had given the latest security briefing that Eren and Boris had attended only two weeks earlier. With him was another man, a brunet who looked like he was three weeks overdue for a haircut.

“Eren!” the blond man said again, hand extended. “How are you?”

“Good!” Eren replied, enthusiastic despite not being able to put a face to the name.

“Zeke,” the man said, no smile. His head jerked off to the side as he gestured to the brunet. “This is Floch, the current first officer.”

After shaking Zeke’s hand, Eren shook hands with Floch. Eren had heard of Floch, but had never met the man before. He was another one of Wings Aviation’s cadets, a man that had experience quite similar to Eren’s. This man, however, with his unkempt auburn hair and condescending hazel eyes, immediately brought Jean to mind. The distaste in Eren’s mouth upon greeting his colleague was sour, but he forced a smile; he would play along for two days, because then, Floch would be gone. Back to Eldia.

“How were your flights?” Zeke asked.

Eren sighed. In retrospect, his flights had both been complete nonevents, but both were a completely new experience for him. He had never flown internationally before, never mind to a country where he had to go through security scanners _after_ disembarkation. Everything was new to him, but he dared not mention that; something in both Zeke and Floch’s eyes said that they have been through this one time too many, and that if he were to speak about it, he would be teased for being the wet-eared noob.

“Not too bad,” Eren simply said.

Just then, Eren spotted his bag on the carousel, but before he could make a move to get it, a man in an orange shirt grabbed it. He was about to protest, when Zeke grabbed his shoulder and said, “He’s with us. He’s our handler.”

“We have a handler?” Eren asked unthinkingly.

It was Floch that answered then, and when he spoke, his voice embodied the cockiness Eren thought it would. “Obviously. We’re not exactly on the same page as the _locals_.”

The hatred with which he said the word _locals_ raised a red flag in Eren’s mind – racism. But now was not the time to argue or ask questions. Biting his tongue, he just nodded, making a note to ask Zeke about the dynamic between expats and locals at a more appropriate time.

Leaving the airport, Eren’s mouth fell open…or it would have, if it weren’t for the hordes of flies buzzing around. There was _nothing_. He’d seen backyards in the ghettos of Karanese look better than the exit to terminal. He’d smelt raw sewerage less repulsive than the stench that hung in the air. He couldn’t believe that this was the first impression people would get of the capital city of Marley, but then again…could he really be surprised?

This place was, indeed, a shithole. He had tried to keep an open mind, thinking that the people that had travelled here were simply being discriminatory bigots, but he saw now that what the world had said about Marley was true. The place was overrun with dust and crawling with unkempt people yelling at one another so aggressively that Eren feared someone may pull a gun out at any moment. If it weren’t for Zeke and Floch’s cool demeanors (and the handler toddling along behind them, that seemed to be chatting with every second person, much to Zeke’s chagrin) Eren might have felt uncomfortable. While he was still far from feeling at ease, he didn’t quite feel like he was in immediate danger.

After all, Zeke was a military man.

“Welcome to Lago,” Floch said with a cocky smirk.

Eren resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead offered the man a shrug that went unnoticed, since he’d already turned back around to continue walking. Something told Eren that this man was the “leave the fallen behind” type.

When they got to the 4x4 sans canopy, the handler loaded Eren’s baggage on the back before announcing to Zeke that he had to receive more passengers, and then he took his leave. Eren eyed his luggage, wondering if it would be safe out in the open in a place like this. If this was Eldia, he’d have his things locked up and windows wound up all the way.

“They don’t steal here,” Zeke explained, having noticed Eren’s apprehension. “Your stuff is safe at the back.”

Despite that, Eren opted to keep his hand luggage on his person. His laptop was in his backpack, after all. He just nodded and jumped into the cab.

Once they were on the road to the base, which was only a ten-minute drive away, Eren saw the truth of Lago. The truth of Marley. Every second car that passed them by was a military vehicle, or some civilian truck carrying hordes of armed soldiers that just stared out at nothing, legs swinging and fingers on the triggers of their guns. Some of the vehicles had machine guns mounted on top, some had two; some of the guns were manned, some of them weren’t. Beady-eyed soldiers patrolled the roads, some with their guns to their chests and others with their guns flung carelessly over their shoulders. And it wasn’t _just_ guns…everyone here was kitted with the infamous AK-47, something that even someone that wasn’t in the know could easily recognize.

With Floch in the front seat beside Zeke and the windows closed, one would think the sounds of the outside world would be drowned out by the hum of the engine and the music blaring softly on the radio. No. The sounds of distant gunshots and the shouting of people who sounded like they were out for blood filled the cabin of the car. Yet despite this, both Floch and Zeke seemed ever calm. Eren, however, could feel his heart begin to beat faster as he realized just what kind of a world he’d been thrown into.

Marley.

A country with a violent history. Decades ago, a dictator used food to control the people of Marley, purposefully starving the masses and winning the allegiance of many through the promise of basic sustenance. International interventions eventually ousted the man, but the civil war continued; Marley did not want the help of other countries. Marley would sort out Marley’s problems. But with the country, particularly Lago, being situated at an ideal port for world trade…well, obviously the world wanted in. What Eren had thought was that the war had died down, and that there was nothing more than civil unrest in the region. He was naïve to think that the military forces from Hizuru, Eldia and the Mid-East Alliance was for the betterment of the country and its people. Naïve. Stupid. Blind.

Marley was still in the grips of war, not civil unrest, and Eren had been too damn blinded by ambition to realize that vile reality.

If he thought he’d made a mistake before, now he was convinced.

“Say, uh, Zeke…” Eren tried, but a particularly harsh speedbump made him hiccup.

“A bit rough, eh?” Floch said. When Eren looked at the man, he was glaring at Eren through dark glasses, but he knew that the look in his eyes was mocking.

It made Eren sick to his stomach to be looked at like that, but he knew that Floch had every right to. The man had been here twice. In contract terms, he was a veteran. He could tease any wet-eared brat that he desired…and Eren was in no position to oppose. If anything, he knew he had to respect the status quo.

“It’s not the best place to be,” Zeke said, unknowingly dissipating the tension building between the two younger men in the car. Just then, a truck loaded with armed soldiers drove by, and every single one of the men glared at their car. Eren shrunk in his seat, which made Floch smirk. “Things are a little tense in Marley right now.”

“Ya don’t say,” Eren mumbled as he watched the truck of soldiers drive by. With tinted windows, he assumed no one would notice his leering.

“Lago has a threat rating of three,” Zeke continued nonchalantly as he drove on.

“Out of?” Eren asked.

“Five,” Floch answered.

Eren swallowed thickly as he digested this information, but he had no time to process it before Zeke was talking again.

“It’ll never go lower than that,” Zeke said. “Some days it’ll be higher, and all security protocols will be adjusted accordingly.”

With hands fisted, Eren turned his attention back outside. It was monochrome. Everything was brown…the road, the cars, the people, and their clothes. There was sand everywhere. The memory of the lush plains of Karanese crossed Eren’s mind and he pinched his eyes shut to erase it; it would do no good to miss home on his first day here. He still had another fifty-six to go.

“If I tell you to duck in your seat, you duck. No safety belts in this car.” Zeke spoke as if he had said this a million times before; eyes on the road, driving slowly, not worried for the man at the back. Eren wondered just how hardened this man was.

Eren nodded, even though he didn’t understand. Why would he have to duck? Were there people here who would shoot at them and try to kill them? Looking at the people walking alongside the road – not just the soldiers but at those who were obviously civilians – Eren could understand why someone would do just that. Desperation clung to these people like a foul stench; it was as terrifying as it was heartbreaking.

_Levi is going to kill me, _Eren thought, realizing now, for the first time, why Levi had been so vehemently against this particular career move.

“As you already know, this is the Green Zone,” Zeke continued, oblivious to Eren’s plight. “You will never need to leave this area and you will _never_ leave this area, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Eren answered, voice trembling as he spoke.

Floch chuckled, and Eren shot him a hardened glare. The man never saw it; his eyes were outside, looking around as if the sights were worth seeing.

“If we are on the road and there is an attack, the first thing you do is get to hard cover,” Zeke said.

“Wait, an attack? In the Green Zone?” Eren asked.

Zeke’s eyes met Eren’s in the rearview mirror, and the nothingness in the older man’s eyes sent a chill down Eren’s spine. When he spoke, his voice was macabre, which only further cooled the chill. “It’s green, but don’t for a second think you are untouchable here.”

A moment of silence passed before Zeke pointed out concrete barriers along the road, which apparently would be impervious to most small-arms fire. He went on to detail that there was a first-aid kit in the car (when Eren did his first-aid course, he was sure he’d never have to use those skills, and now he was wondering if he even remembered how to treat a gunshot wound), but the man’s words were like background noise. Eren heard everything, but at the same time, he heard nothing. Everything in his mind was screaming at him that he’d been stupid and selfish to do this, and all he wanted to do was get the hell out of this place and go home. To his life, to his Levi.

“Oh, and Eren?” Zeke said, waiting until Eren looked at him in the rearview mirror. “If there is an attack on the vehicle, get away from it, and don’t go back. No matter who is in that vehicle.”

Just as Eren was about to ask why, about spew some self-righteous bullshit about never leaving a man behind, Zeke said, “Their MO is to launch a dummy attack, and when the crowd gathers, throw a secondary that’s usually bigger.”

Eren could swear his heart stopped.

Zeke continued, “Something like that will probably not happen in the Green Zone, but one never knows. Always be vigilant.”

* * *

The base was not at all what Eren expected. He’d been told of comfortable accommodations with aircons in the rooms, and a restaurant that catered for three meals a day, at no extra charge. The photos that he’d seen had also been non-assuming, but now that he was faced with a literal shipping container, Eren’s jaw went slack. Flies be damned.

The rooms were damn shipping containers. Freight containers. One container split into three rooms, each about two-meters wide and three meters long, with another meter or so for a tiny bathroom with a shower. At the very least, he had his own bathroom, Eren thought, but looking at his tiny living space he could already tell that he would get cabin fever. His room had a single bed, a TV, a desk, a bar-fridge and a closet. It was more than enough, but coming from where he’d come from, it was like a jail cell.

_At least there’s aircon, _Eren thought as he shuffled into his room, sighing as he took in the tiny space that would be his home for the next eight weeks. The cool air was heavenly after being out in the hot, humid air.

He unpacked his things, and once he was settled, took a moment to look around at the nothingness that would be his life. Sighing again, Eren reminded himself that he was but a young bachelor, and the life he’d been living had been luxurious on account of his wealthy lover. This was nothing to fret about, and it was only eight weeks. He would survive.

Just as he whipped out his phone to connect to the Wi-Fi, there was a knock on his door.

“Yep?” Eren said, as he opened it. He was greeted with the sight of Zeke wearing a tight shirt and shorts, sporting a devilishly charming smile that did not suit the gruff set of his face.

“Ready for a tour of the facilities?” Zeke asked.

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” Eren said with a frown.

Zeke simply grinned before stepping aside to let Eren out of his room. “The sooner, the better. You can grab lunch afterwards.”

Those words were music to Eren’s ears.

And so the tour began. Zeke showed Eren around the humble base. It had a spacious dining area that had both an outdoor and indoor section (though Eren was strongly advised to keep his dining indoors during daylight hours due to harassment from flies), a bar, a volleyball court, a swimming pool that was still under construction, and a basic gym. All in all, it wasn’t much, but it would be enough to alleviate the need to get out of his room, Eren reckoned, or rather hoped. However, when they went underneath the gym, the “this isn’t too bad” thought that he’d had was quickly retracted.

There was a bunker.

“If shit _really _hits the fan, this is where we go,” Zeke said as he opened the heavy steel door.

Eren peered inside, curious yet cautious like a kitten in a new home, before he eventually ventured inside. In one corner, crates of bottled water was stacked to the roof, and along the walls were benches, but aside from that, there were no indicators that this bunker was intended for long-term use. Having watched Doomsday Preppers and all other programs about people who prepared for a supposedly inevitable apocalypse, he’d expected some tinned food, maybe guns or something else cool. But no, it was just water.

“Define shit hitting the fan,” Eren said as he walked through what he assumed to be two shipping containers melded as one.

Zeke said, “It happens. People attack the compound. They try and get in. If the threat is too close to the base, the sirens will go off and you’ll come here. I suggest you familiarize yourself with the different siren signals to know what your actions must be.”

Nodding at this, Eren remembered a heated conversation he’d had with Erwin once. Erwin had said to him that calls to the bunker happened at least once a fortnight, but that every threat had been afar and that it was just protocol. He’d kept that from Levi, knowing it was not much of a concern, but being here, he wondered just how close the danger could come. He opted not to ask.

“But, rest assured, we are safe,” Zeke said, his sickeningly sweet smile making Eren’s gut churn.

Thinking about the security detail that manned the gates, each man equipped with an AK-47, Eren could believe Zeke in that at least. The men seemed proficient, to Eren’s inexperienced mind.

“How many people can fit in here?” Eren asked.

“Hundred and fifty,” Zeke answered, matter-of-fact. “The capacity of the camp.”

Eren hummed in acknowledgement, wondering just how stuffy the air would be with one-hundred-and-fifty bodies in this confined space. There was no aircon here, which Eren reckoned was probably due to the fact that the air could be contaminated from the outside. At least there were fans, although it was only two, and it was then that Eren realized there was no toilet.

“And uhm,” Eren cleared his throat, “toilet?”

Zeke chuckled. It was a deep, throaty chuckle that did not suit his physique, but by now Eren had accepted that this man was an oxymoron. His eyes were hardened, as was his body, but he did not seem particularly lethal. Eren knew he was a fool to believe that – Zeke had extensive military experience preceding his career as a pilot, and he carried himself in a way that showed he could handle his own. Eren idly wondered how many lives Zeke had taken.

“You get a piss corner, brother,” Zeke said, pointing at one of the corners. Eren noticed then that that part of the bunker had a rail with a plastic curtain on it, and cringed. “This isn’t a long-term solution. The bunker is just here so that if something happens, we can protect the people of the camp until such time that help arrives. Which, given the fact that this is the Green Zone, will be damn quick.”

Something in Zeke’s tone of voice when he said that unsettled Eren, but he let it go. He just nodded, frowning, before making a hasty exit.

The two men chatted for a few more minutes before Zeke excused himself and Eren made his way to get lunch, and after eating, he was finally in his room. It was then that he realized that he had a bullet-proof vest by the door, and he might have imagined it, but he vaguely remembered Zeke mentioning something about body-armor.

Eventually, Eren got settled into his room. He connected to the wifi and the first thing he did was set up his laptop to call Levi. He’d last spoken to the man when he left on his last flight, which was nearly five hours ago, and he was sure that Levi was shitting bricks by now. He smiled at the thought, not because he found it funny to stress his lover out (okay, maybe a little), but because Levi was, of course, ever melodramatic.

“Jesus, Eren,” Levi said when the call connected.

The man looked worse for wear. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes had the familiar dark rings of sleep-deprivation under them. Even his ever-focused eyes seemed to be drifting along the screen, although that could have been because he was taking in all that was Eren, alive and well before him.

“Jesus yourself,” Eren said, gesturing to the screen.

“So it lives,” Levi said.

“Indeed it does,” Eren said, throwing Levi a lopsided grin.

The man frowned. “Why did it take so long to call?” He took a deep breath and then said, “I was worried.”

Eren smiled at this. The irritation with which Levi spoke could have easily escalated into a fight, but Levi diffused himself. If that wasn’t a sign of his support, nothing would be.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Eren said. “It took some time to get through customs and there’s no Wi-Fi at the airport. Then I had the tour of the base and ate…I just got back to my room now.”

Levi nodded and then yawned, trying his best to stifle it. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” Eren asked, and Levi immediately shook his head. “Fuck, Levi, you can’t do this to yourself.”

“I was worried,” Levi said. He glared at Eren, the brunt of sleep deprivation darkening his eyes some. “You’re fucking off to some war-torn hell-hole and I must sleep in our bed all cozy and happy? Don’t sound right to me.”

“Airliners don’t just fall out of the sky, you know.”

Levi huffed. “Let’s consult the stats, shall we?”

The last year hadn’t been kind to aviation. There had been more accidents than usual, although Eren reckoned that he was just more aware of them now that he was more involved in the industry. It was a fool’s excuse, he admitted, but it was the one that made him sleep at night, so he was happy with it.

“I tracked you on radar,” Levi said.

_Fucking billionaires,_ Eren thought, rolling his eyes before he said, “So why were you so worried then?”

“You landed more than two hours ago.”

“It’s Marley, Levi. I don’t have roaming here and Wi-Fi is a rare commodity.”

Levi sighed. “Yeah, I know. I just…I was worried, okay?”

“Okay.”

An awkward silence passed between them. Levi looked like he was falling asleep sitting up, while Eren, finally coming down from the high of actually being in Marley, was starting to feel a little tired himself. Yet despite that, he wasn’t ready for the call to end. Channeling the last bit of energy he had, Eren perked up and lifted his laptop up.

“Wanna see my room?” he asked.

Levi nodded tiredly.

Turning around this way and that, Eren said, “Bathroom. Cupboard. Fridge. Desk. Bed.”

“That it?” Levi asked, finally perking up. Eren chuckled. “Fuck, I’ve seen prison cells bigger than that.”

“It has aircon,” Eren amended.

“So does prison,” Levi deadpanned.

“At least I have my own bathroom and shower,” Eren said with a shrug.

“Unlike prison,” Levi said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eren said with a chuckle.

Another silence. This time, neither looked like they were about to sleep. Eren took a moment to take in Levi’s disheveled appearance and for a moment he felt bad for what Levi had to be going through. He could only hope the subsequent weeks wouldn’t be this taxing on the man.

“Are you happy?” Levi suddenly asked.

The young pilot took a deep breath. All in all, no, he was not happy. This place was every bit the shithole it was promised to be, and then some. He didn’t feel safe. His quarters were far from ideal and the sound of automatic gunfire had been the soundtrack to his day. Yet despite all of this, he knew that within the next few days he would be piloting a machine he’d been salivating to touch. If that wasn’t consolation, then nothing would be.

“I’m looking forward to fly her,” Eren said.

The man on the screen nodded. He understood what Eren was saying. More so than that, he felt like Eren had finally realized what Marley was – not just a job, but a risk. “I hope she gives you many happy hours, Eren.”

“Thank you,” Eren said. He sighed. “And you? How are you?”

Levi chuckled. “I missed your stupid fucking warmth in bed. Never thought I’d miss a damn space heater this much.”

Eren laughed at that, recounting the hundreds of times Levi had quite literally kicked him away in bed, complaining that he exuded too much damn heat. If he had a penny for every time Levi had complained, he was sure he could put down a deposit for a decent car. However, despite all the complaints, Levi was a self-proclaimed “whore for cuddles” and Eren was ever eager to acquiesce.

“I’ll be back soon,” Eren said with a smile.

“Then it’ll be summer again,” Levi retorted.

“Yeah, well. We have aircon,” Eren said with a shrug.

Another moment of silence passed before Levi asked, “Are you safe there?”

“As safe as I can be,” Eren replied. Levi’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. “You know how it is. Erwin told us.”

“That fucker didn’t lie?” Levi asked.

“No,” Eren said. Everything Erwin had said had been true, good and bad. Sure, Zeke put a slightly livelier and less statistical twist into the situation, but it remained the same either way. “I’m fine.”

“Good.”

They spoke for another few minutes about menial things before both Eren and Levi said they were too tired to stay awake any longer. They bid their farewells and ended the call, and when Eren curled up in a single bed for the first time in years, alone and cuddling a damn pillow, he realized just how lonely this tour was going to be.

But like all the other times he’d felt down or unsure about his decision, he reminded himself that it was for the hours. Eight weeks, and he’d be back in Levi’s arms.

* * *

Eren’s first day in the aircraft was a day he swore he’d never forget. He had hearts in his eyes as Zeke walked him through the exterior preflight inspection before letting Eren do his interior preflight checks. Zeke quietly observed, not knowing that Eren’s slow pace was due to appreciation, not lack of proficiency.

The brunet plugged his Bose A20 headsets into the jacks – that was one thing he let Levi buy for him because he had wanted the A20 for as long as he could remember, and could never afford it, and had resigned himself to the fact that he never would – and then made himself comfortable. He adjusted the seat and the rudder pedals, getting himself into position. All the while his heart was beating at a million miles per hour out of sheer excitement, and as soon as Zeke was no longer inside the nineteen-seater aircraft, Eren whipped his phone out to take selfies. He immediately sent a bunch of them to Levi, excitedly captioning the lot, _first time in the 1900!_

After setting his paperwork in place in the cockpit, and then preparing the cabin, Eren went to join his captain outside. He couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at how cool Zeke looked – even though neither his pilot shirt nor his tan cargo pants were particularly form-fitting, they seemed to cling to his body in a way that made him look strong. Cool. Kind of like a soldier. While his physique seemed like nothing to write home about, he did have defined arms, and Eren was willing to bet he had a six-pack and a v-line (he’d _never_ admit to Levi that he’d had those thoughts!). Even the way he stood – legs spread, hands on his hips and posture upright – exuded power. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his blond hair waved about in the wind, his usual spectacles traded for a dark pair of Aviators. The man looked like he _owned_ the place.

Eren could only dream of looking that cool.

When Eren joined the man, Zeke looked down at him. “You ready?”

“Yep,” Eren said, a little too enthusiastically. He wanted to kick himself in the ass for appearing so uncool.

Even though Eren barely knew Zeke, he was a “man’s man” in Eren’s eyes. He was strong, had a nice body, cool, boasted an extensive military background, and while he wasn’t particularly non-verbose, he had this silent strength about him that made it seem like he was in control of any situation he was in. Eren was envious – Zeke was the kind of man Eren aspired to be.

“The passengers are on their way,” Zeke said. “You can call for startup.”

“Yessir!” Eren called out, saluting before darting back into the aircraft.

As he climbed into the aircraft, Eren berated himself for the lame salute. “Sir, really?” Eren huffed, hopping into the cockpit and turning the ground power on to request start clearance from the control tower.

Eventually Eren managed to struggle through the heavy accent of the Marleyan controller, and he and Zeke, and a whopping eight passengers, were off. It might not had been much (only half of what the aircraft could carry), but that was the most lives Eren had ever been responsible for in his short life, and not only was he damn proud of it, but he was also excited…and incredibly nervous.

Zeke gave Eren command of the aircraft and would be doing the radio-work while the junior first officer flew. It would only be a forty-minute flight each way, but Zeke wanted Eren to do all the flying both there and back so that he could get used to the aircraft.

Everything had been going perfect. Well, as perfect as someone’s first flight could go. The takeoff was smooth, and Eren’s maintenance of his climb speeds were quite accurate. He overshot his assigned altitude by almost two-hundred feet after forgetting the cardinal rule of levelling-off from a climb…something he harshly berated himself for since he was an instructor and _taught_ that bloody rule to people. Zeke just laughed it off, and the rest of the cruise was spent either in silence or idle chitchat.

Eren had learnt that the captain had been in Marley for three months. In those three months, he travelled about, one such trip was Eldia, when he gave the safety meeting to the pilots and engineers. He was single, and happy to be so – _a relationship is impossible with my job_, he’d said; he liked conflict, he liked travelling. Zeke served in the military for thirteen years, as infantry and as an air force pilot. Yes, he’d killed people before, but he’d also almost been killed plenty. He was about tell the story of one such incident when Eren announced that they were ready for descent.

As they commenced their approach to the small military airfield known as M.E. Airfield (home to the Mid-East Alliance’s biggest base in Marley), Zeke collected the latest surface data from the controller while Eren flew the aircraft. Zeke then spoke on the PA to inform the passengers that they would be on the ground shortly (something Eren was itching to do, but wouldn’t reveal his eagerness to Zeke). Eren’s callouts for configuration changes were perfectly according to the company’s SOPs, and Zeke’s adherence to them flawless.

It wasn’t until they were on final approach, fully configured, and six-hundred feet above the ground that Zeke asked, “When last have you landed?”

“The 1900?” Eren asked.

_Five hundred,_ the aircraft called out.

“Yes,” Zeke answered, instead of calling approach stable.

“Never,” Eren said, eyes never leaving the runway. “I just got my rating like two weeks ago.”

“Tell me you’re joking,” Zeke said.

“Nope.”

The captain sighed. Eren wouldn’t have noticed it, but Zeke was conflicted. While Eren had displayed good piloting skills, landing was a completely different story. There were eight people on board, and even though Eren was pilot flying, it was Zeke, as the captain, who held the ultimate responsibility for all onboard.

“Are you okay to land?” Zeke asked.

If Eren were to say he weren’t nervous then, he’d go straight to hell for lying. He could feel his feet trembling on the rudder pedals, and his heart was beating so hard in his throat it was making him nauseous. His right hand was so sweaty on the control column that he was starting to get scared he’d lose his grip. Yet despite this, Eren felt okay; of course he didn’t feel completely at ease, despite having landed the aircraft dozens of times on the simulator…but that was just the simulator. This was real life! A mistake here could cost him, and all onboard, dearly. However, Eren knew he wouldn’t make a mistake. Not one like that.

The landing was probably not going to be perfect, but it would be safe.

“I’ll be fine,” Eren said.

Zeke couldn’t argue. Everything about Eren’s approach was on the numbers. As they crossed the threshold, the aircraft called out, _fifty_. From there, it started counting down in increments of ten, until Eren was only ten feet above the runway. At that point, he closed his power and brought the bird down, landing on the centerline and on the main gear, holding the nose off for only a few seconds before it kissed the earth.

“Fuck, that was hard,” Eren said as he lifted the power levers over the second gate to put the propellers into reverse.

A loud _swoosh _of air erupted around them as they rapidly started to decelerate. Eren was taught to use the brakes as infrequently as possible; between beta and reverse, the propellers could decelerate the aircraft incredibly quickly…something Eren could finally say he agreed with.

“That was good,” Zeke said as he ran through the after-landing checks. “If you land too softly, you’ll take rubber off the tires.”

Eren chuckled. “It’s exactly the opposite with small planes.”

“I know.” Zeke turned slightly and glanced at Eren from the corner of his eye, gaze lost behind the deep black of his shades. “Do yourself a favor, Eren, and forget everything you ever learnt on those little buckets. Enter turbine with a clean slate, and I’ll make a decent pilot out of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read! Just a note:
> 
> SOPs = Standard Operating Procedures
> 
> Beta = A angular pitch setting on aircraft propellers that causes deceleration instead of acceleration
> 
> Reverse = Reverse thrust, where air is "redirected forward" on an engine to slow the aircraft down
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> OS


	8. The Day It All Changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!
> 
> Thank you for still being here. A HUGE thank you to those who have left comments recently, sorry for not responding to them but I will explain that in a sec:
> 
> If I may just take a moment to explain my long absence...you might not know this but a little while ago my relationship of 3 years ended, which was a bit of a blow. Working through it was going well then I hit a bit of a rough patch. Went away for a bit and things started looking up, and then after sometime I met someone. So between getting back on my feet at work and working on something with this amazing new person, I have only been home for about 2 weeks since the end of July. Needless to say, things like my writing took a bit of a dip.
> 
> I'd like to say that it'll pick up from here but I can't promise that. I won't be home again for another few weeks but I will try my best to get my mojo back. On the plus side, I do have a few pre-written chapters so I will try push to put those out on the low days.
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a filler, so I apologize if the quality is sub-par and the content somewhat random. Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoy it.
> 
> So once again, a huge thank you for the ongoing support, it was a great help pulling me up out of the slump.

Thirty-five days. Five weeks down, three to go.

Since Eren had been gone, Levi’s already fickle sleeping habits had completely gone to shit. He found himself awake more nights than asleep, and even on the nights where he was able to get to sleep, he wasn’t able to stay asleep. At one point, he considered it an achievement if he managed to get three hours of uninterrupted sleep a night. The frustration of it all lead Levi to seek relief at the bottom of a bottle more often than he cared to admit, and after seven nights of attempting to drink himself to sleep, his health had started to decline.

Those who worked with him noticed the decline, but no one dared mention it. It was his assistant, Petra, the only one who was completely unafraid of the man, who eventually sat him down and confronted him on his state. He refused to listen, but Petra relented, and after a heated argument where Levi had, immaturely, threatened to fire Petra for meddling in with his personal affairs – to which she responded, _Then fucking fire me, I’ll haul your ass to labor court for unfair dismissal_ – the man eventually listened to the voice of reason.

It had steadily improved since that fateful day, three weeks ago.

Despite his sleeping patterns being far from normal, even by his standard, there had been a slight improvement since Petra’s confrontation. With her being more attentive than usual, Levi was under constant scrutiny, and that alone had him want to double his efforts. It took some prescription pills to do the job, but eventually some semblance of regular sleep began to emerge.

Levi had gone so far as seeing his therapist more regularly in what he knew was a vain attempt at clearing his mind. Together, the men had discovered that a large part of Levi’s violent insomnia stemmed from the fact that his routine had been broken – Levi had become so accustomed to Eren’s presence that not having the man beside him in bed felt like an anomaly. He had gotten used to Eren being there, even if they didn’t fall asleep or wake together; at some point in the night, the brat with the ridiculously high body temperature would be sprawled across the bed. To not have Eren there for this amount of time was a break of routine Levi hadn’t seen in years, and if there was one thing Levi hated, it was unnecessary change.

What frustrated him, however, was the fact that this wasn’t the first time they’d been separated since living together. Sure, previous times hadn’t been for more than a few days at a time, but the part of Levi that was frustrated by his reaction to the separation refused to see the difference between seven days apart and thirty-five. His voice of reason often confronted him on this, but the more Levi ignored it, the more he became frustrated with what he thought was an illogical reaction to Eren’s absence.

Hell, it wasn’t as if they weren’t talking. Levi reckoned that if there was no communication, then he was welcome to act the way he had. But with a phone call every morning, intermittent messages throughout the day and a video call every night, Levi firmly believed that he was overreacting. His Doctor vehemently disagreed, but Levi just brushed it off.

_There’s a big difference between just talking, and physically interacting with someone. And, Levi, there is a massive difference between jerking off together on camera and actually making love._

The doctor may have been right, but Levi would never give the man the pleasure of knowing that.

But alas, between Petra, the Doctor and the pills, Levi had become functional again. All this time, he’d hidden his plight from his lover, not wanting to worry Eren any more than absolutely necessary. Considering Eren’s growing homesickness, the last thing Levi wanted to do was stress the man any further. And now that the situation had been contained, there as no need to ever bring it up.

One good thing that came from Levi’s insomnia was the amount of work he put in to secure the deal with Garrison Inc. Unfortunately, the team of engineers and specialists working on the project were also implicated, but it all came to a head when Garrison finally signed to have Colossus equip their aircraft with weapons.

It was what people in both the weapons and aviation industries were calling the “marriage of the century”. With Garrison being the biggest manufacturer and supplier of military aircraft – from fighter jets to strato-bombers and anything with wings and rotors in between – and with Colossus being one of the world’s largest and most recognizable weapon’s manufacturers, many in business, politics and aviation were saying that this deal would _change modern warfare as we know it_.

Whether that would be for better or for worse, only time would tell.

“_I’m really proud of you,_” Eren said when Levi gave him the news.

“Thank you,” Levi said.

While Eren had no interest in business or politics, he’d always been fiercely supportive of Levi’s work. He’d supported Levi when the man was skeptical and praised him through his successes, and Levi held nothing back when he said to Eren that if there was even only one thing that he did to improve this company in his lifetime, it would be to enter the airborne weapon’s sector. It was all Levi wanted, and he’d been planning and working on it for years. Now that it had come to fruition, the relief was palpable for both of them.

“_I can’t talk now, though,_” Eren said. “_I’m actually about to go fly._”

“Of course,” Levi said. “We’ll talk later. I just wanted to let you know.”

“_Thanks, Levi._” There was a smile in Eren’s voice, and it made Levi smile as well. “_I’m going to be running a little later than normal today. I’ll be back at camp around five, maybe six. But I’ll message you as soon as I can_.”

“Talk later.”

“_I love you!_”

“You too, brat.”

* * *

By three that afternoon, the office party was in full swing. All the departments that had worked on the deal were treated half the day off, and a party catered for at the boss’s expense. It wasn’t much – some finger foods and copious amounts of alcohol – but the celebration boosted the morale of everyone, especially the engineering department that had been slaving away harder than usual in the preceding few weeks. After giving his thanks to everyone who had made his dream a reality, Levi left, leaving a few in charge to ensure that everyone left the premises by five…and did not break anything in the meantime.

Honestly, Levi was not in the mood for the party, despite his high spirits. Up until now, he’d truly missed Eren, but today was the day where the deep ache of longing truly hit. To be unable to celebrate one of his greatest achievements with his lover hurt. But it was something they both knew would happen…with Eren in aviation, the chances of him missing special events in their lives were high. It was the lot they chose.

So instead of stick around any longer than he absolutely had to, Levi had arranged dinner with his closest friends, Erwin and Hange, to celebrate. Hange was unable to join due to work. With Erwin came Armin, but since Armin had already had plans with Mikasa and Jean, those two joined as well. It was not quite what Levi wanted, but he wouldn’t argue. Afterall, both he and Mikasa had promised Eren that they would play nicely with each other.

Just after Levi had made the reservation at Grande Maria, their go-to venue for any celebration, Petra called to ask Levi if he’d like to have a drink with herself and Auruo – she said she felt like more of a chaperon than a party-goer at the office party, with people apparently giving her a wide berth because she was “Satan’s right-hand”. Levi consequently invited the pair to join them at the restaurant.

It was there at Grande Maria, late on a Friday afternoon, where everyone’s lives changed.

At the time, no one knew what was to come. No one ever knows what the future may hold, and so the moment of peaceful celebration amongst friends was taken for granted…as most mundane things are.

With two bottles of champagne on the table, and the formalities and congratulations already out of the way, the group sat chatting amongst themselves in a booth outside that afforded them an uninterrupted view of the city of Karanese. This restaurant offered the best view of the city, during the daytime and at night, and it was a favorite of Levi’s for that reason. That, and the fact that it was here, on this very balcony, where he and Eren shared their first kiss all those years ago; a feeble thank you from a boy that nearly lost it all.

Looking out over the city, reminiscing in the sweet memory of that innocent kiss, Levi drank in the eerie red glow of the setting sun. Afternoon thundershowers were building on the horizon, uncharacteristic for this time of the year, but those growing cumulonimbus clouds casting dark shadows in the red sky was breathtaking. If Eren were here now, the brat would be trotting up and down the balcony taking dozens of photos, searching for the perfect angle to capture the contrast, fiddling with the light settings, the focus, ignoring everyone lest the image change in the moment of his distraction.

Levi smiled at the thought before he took a long sip of his whiskey, enjoying the quiet moment to himself while the others chatted amongst themselves. Unbeknownst to him, Petra and Hange were staring at him affectionately, both loving how lovestruck their friend looked. For the first time in weeks, Levi looked relaxed, and dare they say, happy.

“I don’t think it’s ethical,” Mikasa said.

The change of tone broke into Levi’s reverie, but he did nothing to betray the fact that he now had one ear tuned into the conversation. He kept his eyes on the horizon, idly wondered if it would rain or if the clouds were only threatening.

“There are a lot of things that happen that aren’t ethical,” Jean responded, sounding completely disinterested. He didn’t want to join in the first place; he didn’t like hanging out with the “older crowd”. While Levi had nothing against Jean per se, he did find the brunet to be rather overwhelming, even if only because the man was unafraid to speak his mind, the controversy of his opinions be damn.

“Doesn’t make it right,” Mikasa countered.

“Of course not,” Erwin said. “But can you name a single era in the history of mankind where conflict didn’t exist?”

It was then that Levi realized they were talking about war. Weapons. Quite possibly Colossus, and the deal with Garrison In. Taking a deep breath, Levi rolled his eyes behind slow-blinking lids, knowing what was to come: he was willing to bet that Erwin was about to go into one of his lectures about the balance, or rather the blatant imbalance, of ethics versus business versus politics. It was a spiel Levi had heard one too many times in his life, but just as he was about to tune it all out, Mikasa called his name.

“I need to ask you something,” Mikasa said, eyes fiercely focused as they met with Levi’s.

She truly was beautiful, Levi thought. Delicate and sharp features, a well-proportioned face with eyes that were as deadly as they were seductive. He’d often wondered how a woman as fine as Mikasa ended up with Jean Kirstein – while Jean was easy on the eyes, there was nothing extraordinary about him whatsoever. Whenever Levi thought about it, the snide voice of his subconscious would hiss that it was the same with Eren…why the hell would Eren go for someone like him?

When it got to that, he would do everything in his power to shut that voice up.

“Shoot,” Levi said as he signaled to Erwin to call for another round of drinks.

“How do you do it?” Mikasa asked. “I mean…your work is war. Your innovations kill hundreds of thousands annually, and displace even more.”

“Mika, come on,” Jean urged quietly beside her, and in that moment, Levi actually liked the kid.

Ignoring Jean, Mikasa continued. “And I’m sure you’re aware that the people who suffer most in conflict aren’t the soldiers or even their families. It’s children. Women. Unarmed civilians. Innocent people.”

_Why the fuck couldn’t Erwin speak up faster? _Levi thought as he took the last sip of his drink.

All eyes were on him. Erwin’s were amused, much to Levi’s chagrin. Auruo’s were also somewhat amused, but smugly so; the man, despite having learnt to behave around Levi over the years, still reveled in any discomfort Levi may face. It was juvenile, but then again, Levi didn’t expect much more of the man.

Something in the way Mikasa was looking at him told him that he had to answer carefully, but without bullshitting her. And if those imploring eyes weren’t enough to drive that point home, her next words were.

“You are now going to equip aircraft with your weapons, aircraft that can do airstrikes from hundreds of miles away from their targets and deliver absolute devastation. Targets like Marley…where Eren is.”

That struck a nerve and it showed. Levi’s brow twitched once before he furrowed it, turning his attention back to the picturesque scenery of the evening sky, the red already paler now as the sun rushed its descent. He bit his tongue, knowing that there was no denying what Mikasa had said.

Marley had been targeted by hundreds of airstrikes in the preceding year alone. With more eyes on the country as foreigners desperately tried to stabilize the region and Marleyans retaliating the foreign aid with more violence than ever, the frequency and severity of conflict was increasing by the week. Small inter-clan squabbles were now lethal mini-wars as clans turned their attentions on foreign soldiers. With them getting braver – having launched a full-scale attack on Mid-East Alliance military base that saw more than a dozen killed in a firefight – foreign alliances were planning deadlier responses to such events. What better way to send a message of sheer force than by airstrike?

Without any warning, without the enemy even knowing, a single bomb could obliterate an entire compound and kill hundreds. An airstrike would be the single deadliest thing to any enemy, and with the region on the cusp of transitioning from one of civil unrest to a full-blown war zone, the possibility of using aerial might was growing.

The thought had crossed Levi’s mind several times a day. What if one of his products – a gun, a missile, a bomb – killed his lover? It wasn’t impossible…in fact, with the amount of Colossus products, both legal and illegal, in Marley, if something ever were to happen to Eren, it would probably be with a weapon bearing the Colossus logo.

The thought crippled Levi with fear.

Honestly, if he could, he would never have taken over Colossus. He hated the idea at the time, but the young Levi who only had his eyes set on wealth and success, and surpassing his father in every way, grabbed the company from his father like a child grabbing its favorite stuffed animal. It was only much later in life that he saw the impact of his business, the lethality of his innovations and how every time he sought to better his products, or grow his wealth, the world suffered. But by then it was too late, and selfishly, Levi didn’t want to leave the life of luxury behind for morals; he’d never had a reason to. It was all business, and it never implicated him personally.

And now that it did, it was far too late to leave. He was in too deep.

Turning his attention back to Mikasa, Levi took a deep breath. The best he could do to appease her is use the same spiel he used to pacify himself. After all, while Colossus was the face of modern warfare, it was also the face of anti-terrorism technologies, and he was willing to bet that Mikasa did not know that.

“How much do you know about Colossus?” Levi asked.

“I know it’s a weapons manufacturing company that makes everything from armored vehicles to guns…and now airborne weapons too,” Mikasa said, her tone teetering on accusatory.

Erwin smirked as he sat back and put his arm around a very tense Armin. He whispered into the younger’s ear, “This is going to be good.”

“Aren’t they going to fight?” Armin whispered back.

“No,” Erwin said confidently, taking a sip of his drink as his eyes fell on his friend. “Levi is very proud of the facts. Listen.”

Armin, like everyone else at the table, turned their attention to Levi. Auruo was, admittedly, a bit put off by Levi’s confidence, having hoped that the younger woman would have been able to illicit some discomfort from the businessman.

“We do that, yes,” Levi said. The waiter delivered the next round of drinks and Levi took his, eyeing it and giving it a swirl before placing the tumbler on a coaster. “And might I add, we are damn good at what we do.”

Mikasa frowned deeply at this, obviously displeased by Levi’s boasting of his company’s prowess at what she considered mass murder.

“We secure the borders of Eldia,” Levi said. “We arm the men and women that protect this country, and many others. We give the means to fight drugs, gangsterism, human trafficking, and terrorism.” He leaned forward in his seat and gazed at Mikasa with imploring eyes. “If you get hijacked and kidnapped, the special response unit that will track your car and rescue you are armed with weapons that my company manufactures. My company equips anti-poaching personnel. We arm police forces. Private security. Border patrol. And now, aircraft that can provide protection while keeping those on the frontline out of harm’s way.”

For a moment, Mikasa seemed taken aback by Levi’s speech. Everyone at the table was, except for Erwin, who just listened on smugly. The way Levi spoke – the even tone of his voice and the imagery created by the eloquence of his words – entranced those who had never heard it before. Levi painted a picturesque ideal of protection and justice. It sounded like an advertisement. It sounded too good to be true.

So, just as quickly as Mikasa had become besotted with those pretty ideologies, she lost the infatuation and reminded herself of the reality that light dances alongside darkness.

“But your weapons get in the hands of the very people you’re apparently trying to protect us from,” Mikasa said.

Levi nodded. There was no denying that. “I know that, Mikasa. That is why we are active in the continued development of anti-weapons technologies as well.”

It was Jean that piped up then, confusion plastered on his face. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Here’s the good part,” Erwin said to Armin.

“Oh yes,” Petra agreed, obviously knowing the whole spiel as well.

“We develop counter-measures for the weapons we produce,” Levi said, finally reaching for his drink and taking a large sip. “So if an enemy tries to use our own weapons on us, we have technologies to disarm them.”

Mikasa’s jaw dropped and for a moment, all hostility left her. Levi very smugly smirked at her, which prompted her to school her expression.

“The fight against terrorism is a serious one,” Levi said. “We need to be as defensive as we are offensive.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Jean muttered.

Even Mikasa concurred; it was obvious by her expression. The silence that engulfed the table wasn’t tense per se, but it was one of contemplation. It was Auruo who eventually broke the silence, after gulping down the last few sips of his beer.

“Well, I learnt something new today,” he said. He smirked at Levi, a gesture that was not reciprocated by the latter, and then said, “Seems like that big, fancy job of yours is more than we all thought.”

Erwin chuckled and replied, knowing that Levi’s patient and cavalier attitude would not extend to Auruo. “Well, earning what he does, it would be expected that his work scope is quite large.”

“The good doesn’t justify the bad,” Mikasa mumbled.

“It helps me sleep at night,” Levi replied, sarcasm thick in his tone.

While Mikasa had clearly lost interest in the conversation thanks to it not having gone in the direction she thought it would, Jean was quite intrigued. He’d never put much thought into the company – he had absolutely no reason to have ever done so – but now that he was hearing more about it, he found himself fascinated.

Big companies and corporations always seemed so out of the reach of people his age, yet here he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with the owner of one of them. Jean briefly berated himself for never having taken the opportunity to talk to Levi more…because who better to learn the secrets of success than the owner of a successful company? Jean had to keep the conversation going.

“So Colossus must be pretty big, huh?” he asked, hating how juvenile he sounded.

“We employ well over one hundred thousand people,” Levi said.

“Holy shit,” Jean mumbled as Mikasa looked up, her interest seemingly reinvigorated.

“That’s a lot of people,” Auruo commented.

Petra shrugged, knowing Levi was being modest. By “well over”, he meant a few tens of thousands over. While Levi was damn proud of his work, if there was one area where his chest really swelled it was his employees. Many might consider him a bit of a difficult and unapproachable boss, but if there was one thing Levi made sure his company did, it was treat every single employee decently.

“Every single one of the people who work for Colossus has a livable salary, well above minimum wage,” Levi boasted. “Women and men get paid equally, and everyone has benefits like pension and medical. Even the cleaning staff.” _Especially the cleaning staff, _Levi added mentally.

Armin piped up then, saying, “I heard that Colossus was voted the best company to work for in Eldia last year.”

“And we’re sure to get it again,” Petra said, winking at Armin.

Mikasa snorted. “It’s all blood money.”

“What about cosmetics?” Levi asked. Mikasa tilted her head in confusion. “The food industry…”

“What about it?” she asked.

Levi leaned forward in his seat, his voice dropping an octave and taking on a sinister edge as he spoke. “Do you take into account the suffering of the animals that bled for the advancements you enjoy, or are your tears reserved for women and children only?”

“Of course not!” Mikasa hissed. “No suffering is justified!”

Satisfied with her answer, but not in the mood to entertain the conversation any further, Levi simply nodded his head and sat back in his seat. He took a long sip of his now watered-down drink and said, “We all do what we have to do to earn our places in this world, Mikasa. I’m not a bad man, despite everything.”

* * *

Dinner was ordered and served, and as the darkness took over the sky, the tense conversation was long forgotten. Everyone settled back, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. As time marched on, something began to nag at the back of Levi’s mind. At first he didn’t pay it much mind, but as the hour neared seven, that nagging became incessant to the point where those around him could tell something was wrong.

It was only after Auruo and Petra left that Levi realized what was amiss. He hadn’t heard from Eren in hours.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, Levi glanced down to find there were no new messages. The last message he’d received from Eren was to say they were flying a few charters and would be home later…Eren had given an estimate for six in the evening, but that was, after all, only an estimate. While Eren’s estimates usually took into account the time it would take to be in range of data services or WiFi, Levi often gave the brat another half an hour before panic would set in.

Given the estimate of six, Eren’s time, that meant five for Levi. Not only had an hour passed, but two. Still, there wasn’t a single message from Eren.

“Everything alright there, Levi?” Erwin asked, clearly in good spirits from the liquor.

“Yeah,” Levi said, distracted as he typed a message out to Eren asking about his whereabouts.

One tick. The message was not delivered. Levi frowned at his phone.

“Levi?” Erwin called again, jovialness diminishing as he noticed his friend’s distress. Even the youngsters seemed suddenly on edge.

“I uh…” Levi started, not sure how to phrase his concern without sounding like an obsessive lover. _Fuck it_, he thought, lifting his gaze to meet Erwin’s. “I haven’t heard from Eren in a while.”

The atmosphere suddenly thickened as everyone’s minds immediately conjured up the worst possible reason for Eren’s quietness. Eren was in near-constant communication with everyone, and especially before and after flights, would _always_ tell Mikasa and Levi when he was taking off and landing. With Mikasa, it was something he had done sine his very first flight, and with Levi, it was because well, Levi insisted on it, considering where Eren was working. Both knew that Eren had taken off then morning, but now that Levi had mentioned not having heard from Eren, Mikasa found her phone also devoid of new messages.

“He hasn’t messaged me either,” Mikasa said, frowning as she checked every possible messaging app.

Erwin smiled that sickeningly charming smile that Levi wanted to smack right off his face now, and said, “It’s Friday. Eren’s probably enjoying himself a little too much to care about his phone.”

Everyone knew that when Eren drank, he completely forgot about the world around him. There were times when he’d be away from his phone for days after a hard night out, and even times where he’d left his phone at a pub after he’d gotten into a drinking battle with someone who could hold their liquor better than he could. If there was one thing Eren enjoyed, it was a good, hard night out, so it wasn’t impossible.

Except for the fact that Eren had been working all day. And he hadn’t said he’d gotten back to base. He hadn’t even said he’d landed safely.

Levi’s stomach twisted painfully as the thought of Eren’s plane having been shot down crossed his mind. That cursed one-tick on the message flashed in his mind.

“He flew today,” Mikasa said softly, “and he never said he landed safely.”

Erwin’s smile faded, but he knew there had to be a logical explanation for Eren’s silence. Even in those areas, planes didn’t just disappear or fall from the sky. “Perhaps there was a delay?”

“He would’ve said something,” Mikasa insisted, and Levi nodded once in agreement.

“Maybe he’s in an area without signal so he couldn’t say anything,” Armin mumbled quietly, not quite believing his own words as dread slowly but surely began to gnaw at his guts.

Levi considered this as Mikasa muttered something in Jean’s ear that had the brunet frowning and quietly berating her afterwards. But the more Levi thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense.

The airfield Eren had flown to today – several trips, because of the size of the load of cargo – was one he often flew to. He had data signal there, and almost always told Levi when he’d landed there and when he was taking off. In fact, he _always_ did it. Levi couldn’t think of a time Eren hadn’t at least sent a short text. And considering they were flying cargo today, Eren would definitely have had time to text while the aircraft was being loaded, since he had no passengers to attend to.

“No,” Levi whispered as a roll of nausea overcame him. He swallowed thickly, forcing his stomach not to expel its contents. “Something’s wrong.”

“Levi, let’s not…” Erwin started, but just then, Levi’s cell rang.

All eyes fell on the device on the table. It vibrated quietly as it rang, an unknown number flashed on the screen, which had Levi’s stomach coil even tighter in on itself. Tighter yet, because Levi recognized the area code of the caller; it was the area where Titan’s offices were.

“Fuck,” Levi quietly whimpered as he answered the phone and pressed it to his ear. In a shaky voice, he said, “Ackerman speaking.”

Everyone at the table sat with bated breaths as they stared at Levi, but the man said nothing. He stared blankly at the table before him, frozen as the color drained from his face. Barely half a minute had passed and Mikasa was yelling at the catatonic man, demanding answers as Jean and eventually Armin grabbed at her in a desperate attempt to calm her hysteria.

And then Erwin’s phone rang. _Rico Brzenska._

“Oh no,” Erwin whispered as he stared at the name on the screen. Armin was the only one that noticed both Erwin’s phone ringing and the shift in his demeanor, and when he saw the name on the screen but a second before Erwin answered the phone, his heart shattered. “Hi, Rico.”

“Mikasa, for fuck’s sakes, please calm down!” Jean growled, finally overpowering Mikasa and pinning her back in the seat.

A moment of calm passed as Mikasa noticed Erwin on the phone, but that calm turned to nauseating dread when she saw tears forming in the corners of Armin’s eyes.

_Don’t say it, _Mikasa mouthed to Armin, but he just responded with a slow shake of his head.

“I understand,” Erwin said, frowning. “I’m on my way.”

It was only then that all eyes fell back on Levi. He was still frozen in place, phone no longer in hand but eyes staring vacantly at the same spot on the table. Eyes that were now widened and crazed, seemingly darker now that his skin had lost its color.

“Erwin,” Armin called, but Erwin ignored him.

“Levi!” Erwin shouted, his deep, thunderous voice like a whip that cracked life into Levi.

Petrified grey eyes turned their attention to Erwin, and it was in that moment that Erwin knew Levi had received the same news. There was no need to confirm who the phone call was from, but Erwin did it anyway.

“Was that Titan?” Erwin asked. Levi nodded once.

“Erwin, Levi, tell me what the fuck is going on, right now!” Mikasa demanded, and for once, Jean didn’t even attempt to school her outburst. Even he could tell that something was dangerously amiss.

There was a pregnant pause as Erwin and Levi stared at one another, silently debating who would be best to deliver the news. They quickly reached an agreement, and Erwin promptly excused himself from the table to settle the bill. As soon as he stood, all eyes were on Levi, quietly demanding he say what everyone suspected to be true.

“Eren, uhm…” Levi said, unsure of what to say, but before he could say another word, Mikasa let out a pained cry and buried her head in Jean’s shoulder. “Eren’s aircraft never returned to Lago this afternoon…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read! I hope it wasn't too terrible. All thoughts are welcome, and I'll get back to replying to the comments once again. They really do make my day. :)
> 
> Much Love
> 
> OS


	9. Mayday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has been following this story, you are probably used to the on and off that I have in posting, so I would like to give my greatest thanks and deepest appreciation for the patience of every single one of you.
> 
> And since the year/decade has turned, happy 2020! I hope that the upcoming year is going to be a good one for you all, and may you reach all your goals.
> 
> This chapter is a bit longer, because well, a lot is happening in it. Please enjoy ;)

_Another day in paradise, _Eren thought on the morning of his thirty-fifth day in Marley.

The day started off like any other day; there was nothing about the morning, or the previous night, that indicated that today would be any different from any other day he’d been here thus far. Nothing roused any suspicion in Eren’s mind that today would be the day his life would change. He would always look back and search for some sign that this day would be a day he would never forget, but he would find none. He would chalk it down to complacency, but he would later grow to accept that there was nothing he could have done to avoid the situation he had found himself in on his thirty-fifth day in Marley.

Could he have changed the ultimate outcome? Yes, he could have. If only he knew that on this morning, things would have been exponentially different.

After his usual breakfast of scrambled eggs rolled up in a sweet pancake, the crew set out for the day’s flight. The destination was the M.E.A Base (Mid-East Alliance Base), and was a trip they’d done often. Both Eren and Zeke were at ease with the route, and both pilots knew the airfield quite well.

It wasn’t much – tattered remains of dome-shaped canvas hangars told a story of a time when the airfield was home to aircraft much larger than the humble Ninteen-Hundred. With well over ten-thousand feet of runway, the M.E.A Base’s airfield boasted the capability to accommodate massive military power…if only more than half the runway wasn’t currently under construction to resurface the severely dilapidated asphalt. With the heat and the near-constant raging winds, the airfield had seen its day.

But it was still a great airfield to fly to, and Eren loved every second of it.

So when the briefing came in to do four flights in one day, Eren was over the moon. They would be tasked to transport food and other supplies to the troops following an accident on the aircraft that usually brought in their goods. A little digging brought to light the probability that the pilots were “fatigued” following a night of boozing. It was only a rumor, but nobody would put it past soldiers, who were notorious for massive piss-ups.

The first two flights were as uneventful as a flight could possibly be. Zeke flew the first trip there and back, whilst Eren handled the paperwork and radio communications. The roles were reversed on the second trip, and Eren took the liberty of trying to beat Zeke’s previous flight time.

“We aren’t paying for the fuel, so have at it,” Zeke had said, those knowing eyes challenging the young first officer.

Despite a quicker approach on the reciprocal runway, Eren still fell short by two minutes.

The third time they approached the airfield, they executed a tactical approach instead of the traditional linear approach an aircraft would typically do. With Zeke at the controls, he descended in a spiral directly above the airfield, from five thousand feet to only five hundred in a matter of minutes. While it was for show – the boys wanted to have some fun, after all – it was also with reason: Zeke was concerned that so much activity from the same aircraft would attract unwanted attention.

If only he knew how right he was.

It was then, whilst the soldiers were offloading the aircraft, that Zeke noticed it. It was nothing too suspicious, considering the fact that military activity was normal in these parts. What did catch his attention, though, was the fact that the vehicles he had spotted looked like civilian vehicles, not military. And while his eyes might have deceived him, he was sure he saw a mounted gun on the back of at least two of the trucks.

Zeke’s keen eyes watched the vehicles while Eren oversaw the offloading. His military experience told him that those unknown elements, however far away, posed a threat to his aircraft. Despite the relatively easy target, the vehicles never advanced; the Nineteen-Hundred was on the ground for nearly thirty minutes, but not once did a single vehicle even inch closer.

Maybe they had RPGs and wanted to shoot the aircraft once airborne, Zeke reckoned. Or perhaps they just intended to attack with small arms.

Either way, the safety of the takeoff was becoming questionable.

Zeke scratched as his beard as he glanced over at Eren, who seemed none the wiser, making small talk with one of the soldiers overseeing his men offloading the aircraft. Eren would not be flying this leg, so if he elected to continue with the flight, Zeke would zip a quick tactical departure. The aircraft would be light, so it would climb incredibly quickly and be able to withstand the load of extreme bank angles. However, all that would mean nothing if they were to be hit.

_But if we stay here, we are inviting them in, _he thought, idly noting that his beard was overdue for a trim.

Sighing, he counted the vehicles for the tenth time. They were definitely heavily armed. A quick glance through his binoculars didn’t show any RPGs, but those could be hidden. Another glance at Eren – who was laughing heartily with the soldier who was likely around his age – had Zeke wondering what to say to his co-pilot.

As a crew, they had to always be aware of each other’s decisions and the reasons for them…a breakdown in that communication could lead to entropy in the cockpit. However, it was also Zeke’s job as the security liaison for Titan to ensure that its crew were left as safely in the dark as possible, to avoid panic.

But if Eren were to panic due to being unprepared, it could cost them dearly.

Decided, Zeke was about to call Eren when he noted the vehicles driving off. He squinted his eyes as, one by one, the trucks and cars turned around and drove off, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. The captain frowned and searched for military personnel that could have chased the civvies off, but found none. They’d just left.

Zeke found it curious…and suspicious.

“Alright, she’s empty!” Eren called.

With the vehicles out of sight, Zeke opted to keep Eren in the dark. He put his friendly mask back on, and when he turned to the soldiers to greet them, one would never say he’d been faced with a potentially life-threatening situation just seconds earlier.

“Close it up and let’s go get the last shipment,” Zeke said, smiling that charming smile that could seal million-dollar deals.

“Thank you, captain,” the soldier said, shaking hands with Zeke. “We appreciate the help.”

“Well, you get your food and booze and we get some extra flying time,” Zeke said with a grin. “It’s a win-win.”

The soldier laughed at that before the two men bode each other farewell, and within minutes, the aircraft was started up and ready to return to fetch the last shipment.

Once the aircraft was airborne, Eren chanced a glance out of his side window between his checks. When he saw a few vehicles loitering behind a small hill to the west of the airfield, he thought nothing of it. He never even mentioned it to Zeke.

One day, Eren would look back and wonder if he had, would that last flight have turned out any different?

* * *

By the time they returned with the last shipment, there wasn’t a vehicle in sight. Being a small load, it was offloaded within minutes, and three soldiers who needed transport back to Lago were already ready to board. Zeke assured Eren there was no rush and told the young co-pilot to complete the TOLD cards for the last leg, while he chatted to the soldiers. In any event, the extra few minutes would give the engines some time to cool off.

While completing the cards, Eren momentarily looked up and out of the front window to see Zeke standing in front of the aircraft with three soldiers, each armed and kitted with body armor and helmets. Aside from it looking pretty damn cool to Eren, he thought they looked damn intimidating…Zeke included. Even though he was in his khakis and pilot shirt, he looked like one of them – strong physique, posture erect, and head momentarily darting from left to right as he maintained a keen eye on all movement around the airfield. Once again, Eren found himself both in awe and jealous of the man Zeke Yeager was.

Growing up, Eren never had a strong male figure in his life. While he felt that it didn’t particularly leave him lacking in any masculine development, as a young adult now looking back, the one effect he hadn’t noticed was that it didn’t give him the space to explore different expressions of masculinity. He’d always just fallen in with what he saw of his friends, which, in hindsight, wasn’t always healthy. Even though those boys had male figures in their lives to aspire to, they were also just boys growing into men. To have emulated that was foolish, but Eren didn’t know better at the time.

Having met Zeke, Eren was suddenly exposed to a brand of strength and masculinity he’d never encountered before. Yes, Levi had served, but the man never spoke about it and nothing about him showed that he’d ever been a soldier. Zeke, on the other hand, was a man so perfectly poised, powerful both physically and mentally, and so in control of every situation Eren had ever seen him in that it was like his whole life was scripted. Since meeting the man only a few weeks ago, Eren couldn’t count how many times he’d wished he could just be like him.

Eren watched, envious as Zeke took one of the soldier’s rifles and gestured for them to follow him to the cargo door. The brunet in the cockpit huffed; sure, he had put assault rifles in the gun-box before, but handling a weapon of that caliber was just too incredible an experience for someone like Eren to ever tire of.

“Next time,” he mumbled to himself as he gathered his paperwork and neatened it for the Zeke’s leg as the non-flying pilot.

Then, just as Eren was about to hop out of his seat to collect and board the passengers, some movement in the distance caught his eye. He sat back down in his seat and peered out the window, quickly spotting a convoy of vehicles driving along a ridge on the firing range just west of the field. That in and of itself wasn’t peculiar, but what Eren did find odd was that the vehicles didn’t appear to be military vehicles; they looked like normal cars and pickup trucks.

Curious, Eren watched them for a minute, but when there was no further movement, he lost interest. The copilot made a move to exit the cockpit again, but just as he lifted himself from his seat, the now too familiar popping of automatic gunfire tore through the air.

Eren stilled on instinct, shocked by how loud it was…which meant it was close. A hush fell over Zeke and the passengers, and for just a moment, Eren felt a deep sense of unease grip him.

If Zeke, and a small group of soldiers, were on high alert following gunfire, then surely it wasn’t normal. _Especially _Zeke, who was known for making jokes about small-arms fire and it being “the soundtrack to Lago sunsets”.

Swallowing thickly, Eren turned his attention back outside the aircraft. His breath caught when he saw that the vehicles had come closer…_much _closer. They couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet from the runway, and now that they were nearer, it had become blatantly apparent that those vehicles weren’t military vehicles.

Two pickups and five other vehicles were racing straight towards the aircraft, but what made Eren’s blood run cold was that the machine guns mounted at the back of the pickups were both manned…and judging by the way the one man was shaking, he was the one firing. And the gun was pointed directly at the aircraft.

Before Eren could call out to Zeke, the man had materialized in the cockpit. He took only a second to assess the situation, but Eren was sure that was the longest second of his life.

He glanced up at his captain as blond brows drew together and lips surrounded by a bushy beard pressed into a thin line. Zeke’s eyes squinted as he took in the sight of the rapidly advancing vehicles, and in that moment, the gravity of the situation became crystal clear; the man firing the gun on one of the pickups was suddenly flung to the side like a ragdoll, as a very prominent mist erupted around his body, like someone had burst a balloon full of powder. He then dropped out of sight.

Eren had never seen a man shot and killed before, but he was quite certain that that was what he’d just witnessed. He hadn’t even heard his own gasp…the only thing he heard was Zeke’s commanding voice laced with urgency break through the sudden loud ringing in his ears.

“Get out of the aircraft, now!”

With that, Zeke pushed himself out of the cockpit and turned to the door. It was then that Eren’s fight or flight response kicked in…and with a vengeance.

“Let’s start up and go!” Eren cried out, surprised by how strong and assertive his voice sounded.

Zeke was unfazed. “No time!” he growled back, before all but leaping from the aircraft.

The sound of guns being torn from the gun-boxes and magazines being loaded as the men communicated with one another in hushed yet urgent voices seemed so far away as Eren sat frozen in the cockpit. It felt like minutes had passed, but in fact, it was only seconds, but the vehicles had come so close that Eren could now see what the men on the pickups were wearing civilian clothing. Mostly red and brown. All their faces were covered.

These were not soldiers. These men were militia.

_No, no, no! Fuck! Not this! _Eren thought, staring in wide-eyed horror at the advancing vehicles.

The soldiers were now talking in a foreign language and Eren couldn’t discern whether they were talking to each other, to Zeke, or over a radio. But somewhere amidst the chaos of words he couldn’t understand, gunfire and the ever-increasing ringing in his ears, Eren heard Zeke’s voice again.

“Eren! Get the fuck out of the cockpit! Come get your kit!”

That was the first time Eren had ever heard Zeke sounding stressed. And even in that moment, he still sounded like he had everything under control.

Unlike Eren, who was frozen in fear. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, its beat so powerful that it felt like the organ would soon tear clean out of his neck. The amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins had his skin feeling somewhere between numb and ablaze, and despite the raw energy tearing through his body, Eren felt like lead.

Zeke’s footsteps echoed through the cabin as he stomped down the isle of the aircraft. A flurry of activity erupted in the cargo hold; men were shouting, Zeke was shouting back, the bolts on the bulkhead were being manhandled and the aircraft shook under the force of people jumping in and out of it. Yet through it all, Eren remained frozen, his senses slowly fading away as dread began to pull him ever deeper into the abyss of blind panic.

And then the bubble broke.

The sound of shattering glass preceded the zing and the snap of plastic being broken by barely a millisecond. It tore Eren right out of his stupor as his eyes focused on the neat hole in the window before him. Those emerald orbs widened in realization, but the real panic set in when Eren looked behind him and realized the bullet that had come through the window was lodged in the plastic right behind his head. It had missed him by three inches. Like a whip cracking across a mule’s back, Eren jumped into action then. He fumbled awkwardly as he got out of his seat, shaking legs dangling unresponsive feet that kicked at the control column, condition levers and flap lever on his unceremonious exit from the cockpit. Gunfire erupted right outside the door, and Eren risked a glance outside to see men in uniform with rifles, some scattering to the hangar and others shooting at the advancing vehicles.

“Eren!” Zeke called.

The brunet looked up just in time to dodge the twenty-five pound bulletproof vest being flung at him. He looked at the lump of black sprawled in the isle, before looking up to see his captain awkwardly hanging through the bulkhead, ass in the air.

“Put it on!” Zeke growled over his shoulder, before coming out the of the cargo area with his own vest in hand.

All Eren could think about as he put the vest on, fingers fumbling with the clips as he trembled, was how Levi had been right. Levi had begged Eren to stay in Eldia because working in a war area, no matter how great the security, had its risks. Even if the risk was minimal, it was still there. Eren had laughed it off at first, and later on assured Levi that the chances of anything happening to him were miniscule. There hadn’t been an incident involving any foreign civilian flight crew implicated in a war area in over a decade. Titan had _never_ had its pilots implicated before. The worst they’d ever had was crew in the vicinity of blasts or attacks – by vicinity, they meant within ten miles. Sometimes crews sat in bunkers for a few hours, but there was never an attack on a base, or an aircrew. Two of their aircraft in a particularly hot area were equipped with flares…they had never even been used. Statistics and history were on Eren’s side, and he’d assured Levi nothing would happen. He’d gone so far as to promise him…which Levi immediately shot down, citing Eren couldn’t possibly make and keep a promise like that. He realized now that Levi was right; history may have been on his side, but it could never guarantee that it would be repeated.

“Get out of the aircraft!” Zeke said to Eren, tearing into Eren’s spiraling thoughts.

Even though Zeke’s voice was raised due to urgency, it was still level. The man sounded so calm that Eren found it surreal…frustrating even. It was like listening to a non-playable character in a combat video game telling him what to do, not panicking because even it knows it is just AI.

It was in that moment that Eren realized that he couldn’t have been with a better person.

Not only was Zeke the security liaison for Titan, but the man was ex-military. He had combat experience, and because of that, he could guide them both to safety not based on theory, but based on actual knowledge and real-life experience. If there was anyone that could get them out of this situation, it was Zeke…and Eren realized that despite the hell he’d just fallen into, he still fell into it with a bit of luck on his side.

Yet despite knowing this, Eren couldn’t fathom why Zeke was demanding they leave their only shelter.

“But…” Eren began to argue, but Zeke cut him off.

“We’re a huge target in here! We need to get out and run. _Now_!”

Easy to get to, easy to corner. Ironically, he and Zeke had had this conversation over dinner just last night.

* * *

_Eren was fascinated by Zeke. He was the kind of man women wanted to be with and men wanted to be. While not massively imposing, he was well built, and his strong physique had an attitude to match. Zeke had an air about him that not only drew people in, but commanded their undivided attention whenever he was in the room. He had a way with words that could charm the knickers off a nun, and the lifestyle he lived was like that of a movie character, not a real man._

_Zeke travelled the world. He’d served in the military for well over a decade, had seen active combat in some of the world’s most hostile territories, and had undertaken missions that would only be recorded in heavily redacted folders in the most secure filing facilities in the country…if they were recorded at all. After leaving the military, Zeke worked for private security for VIPs in hostile countries, playing bodyguard for everything from businessmen to members of parliament with bounties on their heads. All throughout this, he’d learnt to fly, and between his military career and pursuit of flight experience, had travelled the world extensively. In fact, he hadn’t been home in Eldia for more then two weeks in decades._

_Even though Levi was waiting for Eren’s call, the young man couldn’t tear himself away from Zeke. He gave his captain his undivided attention as Zeke recalled stories of his days in the military, both humorous and frightening, and Eren wanted more. He wanted to hear it all._

_Eventually, they got to the topic of Marley. Zeke told Eren the tragic story of a country who fought for their freedom from colonizers, only to fall to the greed of their own people. He told Eren that the terrorism and activity from the largest militant faction in the country wasn’t the only thing fueling the war, but that inter-clan conflict amongst its citizens saw to it that blood was shed daily._

_It was tragic, Eren thought as he drank his beer and listened to his captain’s rendition of the politics of Marley._

_“So…there’s an actual realistic chance of us being attacked here?” Eren asked._

_“Anything is possible in Marley, bro,” Zeke said with a charming grin. He punched Eren lightly on the shoulder and chuckled. “Nah…it’s not likely, and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. It’s not impossible, but it is very unlikely. When you’re in the plane…now that’s a different story.”_

_That piqued Eren’s interest. It wasn’t news to him that the aircraft was an attractive target, but he’d never considered asking what to do if it ever did happen._

_“What do we do if we do get attacked while in the plane?” Eren asked._

_A moment of seriousness straightened Zeke’s features as he said, “If you’re shot with something big enough while flying, you’re dead.”_

_Eren swallowed thickly at this. Of course. As robust as the Nineteen-Hundred was, he doubted it would be able to withstand a hit from an RPG._

_Zeke grinned then. “If we’re on the ground, abandon the aircraft and get the fuck to cover!”_

_“What about just flying off?” Eren asked._

_“Another beer?” Zeke asked as he raised his own empty bottle._

_“No thanks,” Eren said, showing Zeke his own half-full bottle. “Flight tomorrow, you know.”_

_“Good boy,” Zeke praised, sarcasm thick in his tone. He finished his beer and gestured to the barman for another, before turning his attention to Eren. “Next time we fly, time how long it takes to start both engines. Time how long it takes to take and turn around for takeoff. Time the takeoff run. Unless you’re already at the runway and ready to go, it’ll take too long to get airborne. Sitting in something that big…you’re a target from a mile away.”_

_When Zeke’s beer arrived, he clinked his bottle to Eren’s and winked. “But don’t worry, man, we won’t have to do that shit. We’re well-protected, the food is good and we have beer. We are all good!”_

* * *

If only they were ‘all good’.

Eren could feel his heart beating with the force of an inter-planetary collision as he was unceremoniously shoved out of the aircraft by Zeke. The soldiers that were supposed to fly back to Lago were nowhere to be found, but Eren could hear gunfire nearby, closer than he’d ever heard it before. He could also hear the snaps, cracks and buzzes of bullets passing by, and could both hear and see those bullets find the dirt around the aircraft, and even the aircraft itself.

The sound of bullets striking the aluminum frame of the aircraft would forever be engrained in Eren’s mind.

As soon as Eren and Zeke were in the open, Eren froze. Lying barely a few feet away from the aircraft stairs was the body of a soldier. It was one of the men that was supposed to fly back to Lago with them, a man Eren could remember being excited to return home for the first time in six months. He was planning on proposing to his girlfriend on their daughter’s first birthday, which would be in a week.

The body had several holes torn through it, and a part of the man’s face was missing. Blood pooled around the awkwardly contorted body and what looked like tiny chunks of flesh lay scattered about the dusty ground.

Eren immediately gagged, but it wasn’t just the grotesque sight that threatened to tear his stomach contents from his insides, but the smell. While Eren knew blood had a metallic smell, he’d never smelt such a large concentration of it, and hell if the concentrated smell of metal was not overwhelming. It was so potent that Eren could taste blood on the back of his tongue.

“Keep moving!” Zeke urged, overtaking Eren and kneeling beside the dead man.

Eren watched dazedly as Zeke’s knee rested in the pool of the dead man’s blood, khaki trousers quickly darkening as the fabric drank up the blood. The first officer hadn’t even realized he’d lost his battle to his nausea until Zeke was yelling at him to _hurry up and suck it up_.

After taking the dead soldier’s weapon and ammunition, Zeke pushed Eren forward. This time, the brunet didn’t hesitate. As if the sight of the corpse had reinvigorated his own desperate sense of mortality, Eren suddenly felt determined to survive.

“We’re going to make a break for the M.E.A Base,” Zeke said.

The gate was nearly half a mile away.

_Only half a mile_, Eren thought. The memory of the men’s record for a half-mile dash came to mind, and while he couldn’t pinpoint the exact number, he knew it was under four minutes. He was only four minutes away from safety. _Four minutes._

With that thought in mind, Eren set off. Zeke ran beside him, rifle to his chest as he paced himself to stay beside Eren. Even with the younger pilot giving it his all, it still seemed like Zeke was jogging leisurely beside him. It frustrated Eren. No, it pissed him off to think that the difference between himself and Zeke was so great that his best effort was nothing to Zeke.

_Now’s not the fucking time! _Eren berated himself, gritting his teeth and shaking his head to clear the petty jealousy.

“Keep going, Eren!” Zeke encouraged, before turning and dropping to a knee to return fire.

Eren could see the ground in front of and around him give off tiny eruptions as bullets that were meant for him found the ground. Even though the shots were far off, the thought that he was being shot at had Eren whimper audibly as he pushed harder yet, wondering why the hell the gate wasn’t coming any closer.

_Fuck! _Eren thought as he felt the paralyzing burn of over-exertion tear through his body, it shouting its rejection of this torture under the weight of the bulletproof vest and at the mercy of the scorching sun. _Fuck! I’m going to die! I’m going to die here! I’m going to die today!_

Tears streamed down his face as the grim realization set in. He was an unarmed civilian in a foreign country, being attacked by a militant group and defended by less than half a dozen men (if even that) who didn’t know him from a bar of soap. His only hope of safety was too far for him to reach in a couple of minutes, and the only person he knew had picked up a gun off a dead guy and was now lost somewhere behind him. For a second, he considered stopping to see where Zeke was, but then remembered what his captain had told him the night before.

_“They won’t kill you if they can help it. You’re worth more to them alive than you are dead.”_

If that were true, then Zeke’s life shouldn’t be in danger! With that thought in mind, Eren pressed on towards the gate, watching it come closer at an agonizing pace, like trying to reach an objective on foot in a game when the stamina to sprint had been exhausted. His lungs burnt so violently it felt like he was breathing vaporized acid; that single cigarette he had smoked the previous night was coming back with a vengeance, and he kicked himself in the ass for giving in to that temptation.

_Damn alcohol!_ He thought, willing the burn in his lungs to go away. It was to no avail. The burn persisted, and grew more painful with each gasping, desperate breath.

“Keep going!” a voice beside him suddenly said.

“Zeke!” Eren coughed out, relieved to no longer be alone. He glanced at Zeke and saw he no longer had the rifle he’d picked up.

His momentary relief was cut short when two trucks appeared beside them. Men at the back were shouting at them angrily, pointing rifles and accusing fingers at the two pilots. The thin arms of the locals flailed about, oversized clothing flapping wildly in the wind as the trucks drove to corner the two expats. Eren’s heart dropped as they were herded like sheep, the two vehicles converging in front of them, and one more coming up from the rear. It didn’t take much for Eren to deduce that all the uniformed soldiers he’d seen earlier were dead.

“Stop,” Zeke whispered to Eren, his voice strangely clear despite the frantic shouting of the militants. “Put your hands up, get on your knees.” Eren complied. “Avoid eye contact at all costs.”

Some men jumped off the trucks, rifles pointed at the pair. Eren prayed that they didn’t accidentally let rounds off. Getting killed would be bad enough…getting killed accidentally would be devastating.

The young first officer could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and for a moment he wasn’t sure is his heart was trying to tear his stomach right out of his body or if he was suffering a heart attack. Despite his terror, he stayed on his knees beside Zeke, trying his damn hardest not to piss himself as fear unlike any other he’d ever felt took him in its grip. The militants seemed to be arguing amongst themselves, seemingly unsure of what to do with the two pilots now that they had caught them; it was like a dog finally catching its tail, only to sit and stare blankly ahead as a sense of nil-accomplishment took it.

Panic and dread swirled in Eren’s gut. He wanted to puke, he wanted to piss himself, he wanted to shit himself. He wanted to cry, scream, pray, beg. Something, _anything_, just not be useless, captured. He pinched his eyes shut, hoping that this was all just a dream, but when he heard Zeke speak, he knew that this was reality. This was his life. Quite possibly the end of it.

“Eren.” Zeke’s voice was barely above a whisper. The militants would never hear him above their own shouting, and Eren had to focus to hear the man’s words above the blood rushing in his own ears. Zeke spoke in a language only Eldians understood articulating each word clearly so that Eren would understand.

“Remember…they are stressed too. They will make mistakes.” Zeke’s lips barely moved as he spoke, and Eren had to concentrate hard to decipher the words. He hadn’t heard much of the dying native language of Eldia, but could still understand it. “If you get half a chance, run to the gate. Don’t run straight.”

Eren took a deep, shaky breath and gave his captain a small, curt nod of understanding. From both the security training he’d had prior to his deployment and the conversations with Zeke and other soldiers on their own base, Eren was well aware of the fact that shooting a moving target was difficult for untrained gunmen. Many agreed that the best defense against an inexperienced shooter would be to keep moving – keep out of the open, of course, but keep moving.

Here, unfortunately, there was no cover. Chancing a glance up under his brow, Eren estimated the gate was still a good quarter mile away. Even though his lungs were burning and his legs felt like they wanted to pop right out of his skin, Eren knew that if he didn’t get to that gate, he would be as good as dead.

There was no longer an option between fight or flight – it was flight or death.

And then, as if on cue, the chance to escape presented itself.

Still arguing vehemently amongst themselves, the militants parted at just the right point, presenting an opening just big enough for a grown man to dart through. Eren went through the motion of jumping to his feet and sprinting towards the gate at least half a dozen times before he gathered the guts to do it…all in the span of only two seconds. He knew that if he pondered it too long, he would loose his faux courage and never take the plunge.

He had to do it.

_Fuck it, _he thought, _I’m a dead man either way._

It was ungraceful. Eren stumbled to his feet, while Zeke jumped up as if he were yanked up by cables. The captain grabbed Eren’s arm and yanked the younger pilot into action, and within the span of just one heartbeat, both men were running at top speed towards their only hope of safety.

The second they started running, the militants started shouting. Zeke yelled at Eren to just keep going and ignore it, but knowing more than a dozen men armed with AK-47s were behind them and likely pissed off at their attempt at escaping, made ignoring them near impossible. Tears streamed down Eren’s cheeks as both fear and physical exhaustion weighed him down, and as he pushed his body beyond its limits to reach the gate that just never seemed to get any closer, Eren idly wondered just how far a quarter mile really was.

His thoughts were interrupted by the explosive popping of gunfire right behind them. The whirring of bullets flying by them and the dirt parting right before them as bullets embedded in the concrete of the apron told Eren that they were shooting right at them.

“Just keep going!” Zeke growled out.

Eren’s first thought was how could he just keep going when people were shooting right _at_ them? Men were trying to _kill _them! How could he just keep running? Running would only attract more fire…but then again, stopping would present a sure target. If he gave up now, he would die. If he kept fighting, kept pushing, he might just live.

Eren realized he could not live if he did not fight. So he fought.

“Almost there!” Zeke exclaimed. “Just a little far-”

Zeke’s words were cut off by a sharp cry of pain. He tripped over his own feet and went tumbling forward, eyes wide and arms flailing. Blood spurted out of his lower leg as he tumbled, and Eren watched in wide-eyed horror as he realized what was happening: Zeke had been shot.

_Fuck…_

Nothing else went through Eren’s mind as suddenly all sound shut off. It was as if he’d dunked his head under water, muffling even the deafening pops of gunfire behind him. One heartbeat, two, both full and deep as they reverberated in his ears. A rasping breath out. The crunching of gravel beneath his feet sounded like sandpaper being run over a stethoscope, hurting his ears. He didn’t realize he was stopping and turning until his center of gravity caused him to topple to the side. A sharp stone and a few bundles of thorns dug into his palm and fingers as his hand connected with the ground to stop the fall induced by his sudden turn. All the while, his eyes were focused on Zeke, who he’d overtaken by only three strides after the older man had fallen.

“Zeke!” Eren cried out, as he fell to his knees beside his captain.

Zeke had been shot in the calf. It was bleeding profusely, and muscle tissue seemed to be dangling from a surprisingly neat hole, framed by bloody trousers. Despite this, Zeke did not look afraid, and barely looked to be in any pain. He awkwardly reached back to press onto the wound while his other hand pushed against Eren’s torso, leaving dusty, bloody handprints on the first officer’s chest.

“Keep running, Eren!” Zeke growled out. “Go! GO!”

Eren’s head whipped back. The gate was _so close_! Soldiers stood behind the barricades, guns at the ready, but none of them were shooting. At first, he wondered why the hell they weren’t firing back, but then he realized that it was probably because he and Zeke would get caught in the crossfire. As nice as it was to know their wellbeing was a priority, it was frustrating to know the only help they had had their hands tied.

The brunet never even noticed the guard towers had gunners in them that were picking off the straggling militia.

They had come so close, but now Zeke was telling Eren to leave him behind. The brunet couldn’t do that. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what would happen to Zeke if he were to be left behind. The militants were a few dozen meters away, yelling in rage as they closed in on the two foreigners. If Eren were to leave Zeke, he’d undoubtedly get killed.

At least the shooting had stopped.

“I can’t just leave you here!” Eren cried out.

“Fucking hell, just go!” Zeke yelled. “We can’t both get taken!”

_Killed_, Eren corrected in his mind.

“Fucking go, Yeager!”

“I can’t!”

It was no lie. Even if Eren wanted to go, it was now too late. The trucks encircled them once more, the militants shortly following. The gunfire suddenly became deafening again, as the militia fired at the friendly troops by the M.E.A gate and in the guard towers, who now no longer dared to shoot back with the civilians in the thick of the fray. Eren’s heart dropped as the selfish part of him chided his empathy, having just forsaken his freedom for the sake of a man he barely knew. Yet logic held him fast in his resolve, arguing that even though he barely knew Zeke, Zeke was the _only_ person he knew and trusted in this moment. He didn’t want to be without the man, even injured. And in that, he couldn’t leave him be; Eren was much too loyal to throw Zeke under the bus, even if it was for his own survival.

_We’re a team, captain!_ Eren had once said. As the circle around him got smaller and the shouting louder, he bitterly added, _To the very end._

Not a word that was yelled was understood, yet Eren complied. He dropped to his knees, hands in the air and eventually behind his head, as he had seen many an overwhelmed suspect do in TV shows. Meanwhile, Zeke lay on the floor, bleeding, one hand desperately trying to apply pressure to his wound while the other was raised in surrender.

“Weapons? Weapons!” one of the militants shouted.

English! As frightening as the situation was, being shouted at in a language you can understand is exponentially better than being shouted at in a crass foreign language.

“No!” Eren and Zeke cried out together, Zeke then adding, “No weapons!”

Of course they didn’t believe the foreigners. Several men stepped forward from the circle and began stripping them. Zeke lay still, seemingly calm throughout the ordeal, but Eren whined and whimpered as he was manhandled by half a dozen murderous hands. He pinched his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, listening to the frantic pounding of his heart as his bulletproof vest was torn from his body. It didn’t stop there. They removed his shirt, tearing it off by ripping the buttons clean off and yanking the shirt off his arms that were strained a little too far back. Panic rouse within the man as the militants went for his pants, cutting at it with knives to remove it, while some yanked the boots off his feet without untying the laces, hurting his ankles in the process. He cried out in horror as his legs were exposed, the strong winds whipping between his legs as he was left in only his underwear in a matter of minutes.

Tears stung at his eyes no matter how hard he willed them to stay at bay. Eren was terrified…and humiliated. He was in nothing but his underwear and socks, on the dirty ground in a war-torn land, at the complete mercy of two dozen armed militants. In that terror, Eren was also frustrated, knowing that help was only a few hundred meters away and that those people could do nothing but watch as the foreigners were taken away.

Soon, the ruckus began to die down. Within a matter of seconds, it was deathly silent in the circle. The men parted, and Eren looked up to see a man whose eyes held the emptiness of death in them. He had high cheekbones with too little flesh on them, causing his face to look sunken and sickly. His eyes seemed to exacerbate the sickliness, seemingly popping out beneath a straight brow set in a grim scowl. His hair was combed neatly to the left, defying physics as that fringe stayed in place despite the raging wind. He looked down at Eren, before shifting his gaze to Zeke, squinting at the gunshot wound.

“Who shot this man?” he asked, his voice eerily calm. His accent was different to that of the armed men. He was well-spoken and sounded educated.

All the militants stepped back, heads and weapons dropping as if they were children being scolded by an angry parent. It was obvious that this man was their leader, and judging by the reactions of the militants, not a kind one at that.

When no one answered, he took a deep breath. “I will find the one who did it, and mark my words, when I do…” He took a moment to look around at his men, making eye contact with every single one of them before saying, “I will kill you.”

A chill ran down Eren’s spine at the man’s words. That was no threat; it was a fact.

With those words, the man turned away, raising his hand in a motion to round up and leave. For a moment, Eren was hopeful that that meant the militants would leave them be and go about their merry way, but that hope was quickly crushed as hands grabbed at his naked torso, hoisting him to his feet before dragging him to one of the vehicles.

Eren’s heart sank. It felt as though it had dropped into a pit in his stomach and dropped right through to the earth. The reality was shocking, sobering, so much so that the brunet could not even cry. He felt numb, lifeless even, as his head was covered by a foul-smelling sack before being shoved inside a hot, cramped vehicle that stank like the sweat of a dozen unwashed men. Even the odor couldn’t wake him from this nightmare. His mind was completely blank, thoughts not even daring to venture into the life that he was leaving behind, a life these men knew and cared nothing about, a life they could end in the blink of an eye.

This was no nightmare. This was reality.

Eren Yeager had been kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the read.
> 
> Your thoughts are always welcome; I absolutely love reading your comments to see what the story makes you feel, think, and what you hope to come from it.
> 
> Much love  
OS


	10. Captive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank you all for still being here :)
> 
> This chapter might be a bit slow, but it's necessary. Call it a character-defining moment, if you will. Please enjoy it.
> 
> Notes on some things mentioned in the end notes.
> 
> PS I apologize in advance...

_The more time passes, the less likely your chances of escaping._

It couldn’t have been more than two months ago that Eren had read that. At the time, it was nothing more than an interesting tidbit of information hidden amongst a plethora of facts in a course Titan likely gave their crew for no reason other than to tick the boxes: What to do if you are kidnapped. How to survive if you are in an active-shooter situation. What to do and how to come out unscathed if you wander into an area with landmines. How to react when confronted by child soldiers. What to do if the vehicle you are in is hijacked.

At the time, Eren found it interesting. _Cool_, even. When doing those two three-hour online courses, Eren felt like the things he saw in the movies were no longer just for soldiers and specialists; he felt like he’d been let in on a secret little world that only the bravest men and women would ever see. He felt like he was “in the loop”, and dare he say, even _privileged_.

Now, as day yielded to night, he felt anything but.

If there ever was a window of opportunity to escape, it had long since shut. The texts reiterated that the actual act of kidnapping was the most stressful part of the encounter for the kidnappers, and if half the chance arose, the victim should at least attempt to escape. After that, the kidnappers would travel to their own base of operations, and once in familiar territory, their calm and confidence would return, making escape near impossible for the victim.

Eren just couldn’t get the image of the M.E.A Base gate out of his mind; every time he blinked, it flashed in front of him, taunting him, the opportunity to save himself forever lost because he could not leave a man behind.

Which begged the question…where was Zeke? Eren had tried calling out to his captain in a strained whisper more than once, but Zeke never replied. On more than one occasion, Eren was hit with the butt of a rifle to shut him up. It hurt, dear god it hurt like hell, but knowing he might be alone amidst these murderous men was so terrifying that he’d endure the ache of abuse over and over in a desperate bid to reach out. Even though it was for naught.

Since his capture, what had to have been hours ago, they had been on the go nonstop. If it wasn’t in a hot, stuffy vehicle, then it was walking at a pace so fast Eren stumbled more often than not. And it didn’t help that he was bound and blindfolded – his head still in the stinky, dusty sack that they’d shoved over his head at the airfield – which only further abetted his disorientation. He had even gotten sick twice – deprived of sight, suffocated by heat and the foul odor of unwashed men and vehicles that had probably never been cleaned since their acquisition, paired with the rough jostling of driving dirt roads with worn shock absorbers…it was a recipe for kinetosis. However, scared of the consequences of his illness, Eren swallowed it back down both times, fighting tooth and nail not to make a mess.

It was the most degrading experience he’d ever had.

The humiliation of having to swallow back his own vomit while blindfolded and bound like a pig ready for a spit roast, wearing nothing but his underwear and socks, had Eren wishing for the mercy of death. He was far too exposed – not only his skin, but his fear, his weakness, his obvious lack of fighting ability – and he deplored it. Not only was it humiliating, but it was terrifying; he never knew how many men surrounded him, he never knew what they were saying or where their eyes were wandering. When they laughed, he pinched his eyes shut, hoping they wouldn’t do something to further degrade him.

Expecting the worst and fearing that every breath he drew would be his last, Eren had been on high alert for so long that exhaustion was beginning to set in. He reckoned his body was incapable of producing another drop of adrenaline; it felt like the glands had completely burnt out, and now that the survival drug had been depleted, Eren’s body was crashing. The pain of hunger and the fiery burn of thirst gnawed at him, yet despite the growing discomfort, Eren could do nothing but sit in silence and suffer.

Yet while the captive’s energy continued to bleed out, the captors found a new high. The cadence of their voices began to change as the hours dragged on, their speech becoming impossibly more frantic and their laughter more raucous. It was obvious that they were enjoying the delicacy of _khat_, and as their energy levels continued on an exponential upward trend, Eren’s dread deepened: the already-skittish militia were now hyped up on a stimulant drug, leaving the pilot fearful that one wrong flinch could have him bullet-riddled.

Eventually, the tears stopped. Not only because of sheer exhaustion, but because of dehydration. Since the ordeal had begun, Eren hadn’t had even a sip of water, leaving his mouth so dry it felt as though he were chewing on balls of cotton. The dusty Marleyan air tore through his esophagus, making every breath a herculean task of overcoming pain just to survive. Hell, it had gotten so bad that the second time he’d gotten sick and swallowed it back down, he was just glad for the lubrication, even if the bile burnt.

While he knew the human body could survive for three days without water, he wondered if those three days took into account the hellish heat of the Marleyan desert. As surprising as the human body’s resistance to its own demise could be, Eren was hard-pressed to believe that he would even live through the night at this rate.

His exhaustion and fear for his life was such that his thoughts stopped flitting to Zeke. Even with the memory of the gate taunting him being perverted by Zeke’s blood staining the dusty ground, the care for his captain’s life ebbed away as his own brain threatened to enter survival mode. Not a thought was spared for home, or the life he was leaving behind, and none too soon, Eren was lulled into a state of catatonia with only one thought on his mind: survival.

* * *

When Eren returned to a state of full consciousness, it was not a smooth transition. He was violently pulled from his daze when he was shoved out of the vehicle, colliding face-first with the sandy ground, much to the amusement of the men around him. Even then, as he was kicked and shoved and forced to his feet, the disgusting sack over his head was never removed.

He was manhandled as he was led along, the only indication that he’d entered a building being the change in the air; the warm evening air cooled some as the dryness yielded to the stale odor of air trapped inside a catacomb that hadn’t been opened in centuries. Or so it felt. It smelt of dust, sweat and urine, and as the stench became increasingly overwhelming as he was led along, Eren had to clench his teeth lest he lose his stomach for a third time.

The jostling of keys and the groaning of metal grinding in its hinges tore through Eren’s exhausted mind. As if it were a last ditch effort to save itself, his body managed to squeeze out another flirt of adrenaline – not nearly enough to be of any use, but just enough to raise his heart rate once more. Trembling, Eren stumbled forward as he was unceremoniously pushed into what he could only assume was his prison.

The stinky sack was tugged from his head – it was such a relief that he was tempted to thank the man who had removed it – and the ropes that held his wrists bound were cut with a knife big enough to gut a grown man. The sound of fabric falling to the floor preceded the heavy slamming of the metal door closing, Eren’s attention being turned to the latter before caring to see what had been tossed into his cage with him.

Eren stared at the large metal door, unsure of what to feel as he heard more than one lock slam shut on the other side. It was dark, but light enough for him to see that the door was black, rusted, and obviously heavy. There was one small window just above his eye level, and near the bottom of the door was a large slot…presumably for food. It looked like a dilapidated version of the maximum security prison doors Eren had seen on TV.

Within seconds, the voices disappeared, leaving Eren alone in deafening silence.

For the first time since his ordeal began, Eren breathed out a sigh of relief. He found himself thinking it ridiculous to be relieved in this situation, but he was simply grateful that he was no longer at the barrel of a gun.

He took a deep breath, and holy hell it hurt. Trying to swallow was futile; he had no saliva in his mouth. His wrists hurt like hell, rubbed raw against the abrasive rope that had been used to bind him. But he was alive, and even though he’d wished more than once that he wasn’t, he was thankful that his heart was still beating.

Turning around, Eren surveyed the room. He froze, staring blankly ahead as he though it looked awfully a lot like a prison cell in one of his favorite computer games. Incidentally, he loved that mission in the game; the dozens of prison cells provided a lot of cover for the enemy, giving him a challenge in escaping alive.

He almost laughed at how morbidly ironic that was.

The cell looked to be nine square feet, with a stainless steel toilet that had a basin on its cistern. There was no toilet paper. He idly wondered if the plumbing was even functional, a hope he wouldn’t hold onto. Instead of a bed, a flimsy mattress lay sprawled across the floor at the back of the cell…and it looked worse for wear. Eren couldn’t tell if the stains on it was dirt or blood. Or other bodily fluids.

_Fuck, _he thought as his throat closed up, the urge to cry overcoming him again.

“Get a grip,” he whispered to himself, flinching at the pain of speaking.

He knew it was now hopelessly too late to even attempt escaping, and despite knowing the dangers of resignation, he couldn’t help but feel utterly powerless and hopeless.

There was nothing he could do, and what depressed him was not that fact, but the knowing that there was nothing he could do to change it.

Sighing, his eyes raked the dusty floor. He was pleasantly surprised to see his uniform bundled up on the floor, with his shoes, which he found to be a nice touch. He huffed a humorless laugh as he dressed himself, not surprised to find his pants torn and his once white shirt now brown and missing all its buttons.

_At least its something_, he thought as he made his way to the mattress to inspect it.

It had questionable stains that completely hid the patterns that once adorned it. His stomach rolled as he wondered how many people had slept on it; how many had sweated on it, bled on it, released other bodily fluids on it.

He decided the dirty floor would make a more dignified bed.

As he sat down in the corner furthest from the door, Eren wondered just how the hell he’d ended up here. Perhaps if he’d paid more attention to the vehicles approaching the aircraft, he would have noticed something amiss sooner. If he’d noticed earlier, they could have started the engines and tried to get airborne. But just how much sooner would he have had to have seen them? Starting both engines within limits took no less than four minutes, at best. Exceeding battery and generator limits were out of the question; the engines would probably not start if those limits were to be exceeded…would they? He didn’t know. Perhaps if they’d gotten one engine started, started the taxi to the runway and started the second engine on the way…hah, that was impossible. That aircraft wouldn’t get moving with just one engine running, never mind make the tight one-eighty turn to get off the apron and on the taxiway to the runway.

No matter how he looked at it, there simply wouldn’t have been enough time to start up and go. Had it have been a single-engine aircraft, or even a piston, his odds of getting airborne would’ve been higher. Oh, the irony; turbine, oh so sought after, was the reason he was in this dump in the first place.

The young pilot threaded his fingers through his hair, grabbing at it in frustration. If escape in the aircraft was impossible, perhaps this whole situation could have been avoided if he’d just listened to Zeke the first time and left the cockpit earlier. They had both been _so close_ to getting help…that ten, twenty seconds of hesitation in the cockpit could’ve been the difference between them making it to the gate and not.

And not.

Eren wanted to kick himself in the ass for freezing. For panicking. All he had to do was just listen, just _trust_ Zeke as he was trained to do. As he knew he could. If only he had done that, and reacted instead of froze, and listened to Zeke instead of try and bargain, then he wouldn’t be here now. He would be safe in the hands of allied forces, and Zeke would be with him.

For the first time in hours, Eren wondered what happened to Zeke. The last he’d seen of the captain, the man was left bleeding on the apron. He couldn’t recall Zeke being taken, but then again, Zeke had been quiet and Eren’s vision was taken by that godawful stinking sack within seconds of being taken. Had the men left Zeke there? Killed him? Oh god, Eren hoped they hadn’t killed Zeke. If they had…Zeke’s blood was on his hands.

Zeke told him to run for the gate, but he never listened. In some valiant delusion of not leaving a man behind, Eren sacrificed his own freedom. Possibly Zeke’s life.

“Fuck!” Eren growled out, unperturbed by the vicious burn of his exclamation as the air tore through his larynx. His balled fist hit the ground beside him, little stones digging into his flesh upon impact, but he felt nothing. Nothing but worthlessness and regret.

And then, as an indescribable weight pushed down on him, Eren thought about his life in Eldia for the first time that day.

Mikasa, Armin, Levi…oh, Levi.

He pinched his eyes shut as he thought about Levi, the urge to cry and scream now clawing at him like a rabid animal in a trap. What would Levi be thinking? The man was probably beside himself with worry and anger…and Eren knew a lot of that anger would be directed at him. Had Levi not begged him not to go to Marley? Had Levi not warned him? On more than one occasion, Levi had been very vocal, borderline violently so, about this adventure, and every time, all Eren could do was throw stats at the man. Stats that said he would be fine, stats that said it wouldn’t happen to him…and look what that obnoxious invulnerability attitude got him.

Did Levi even know he was missing?

Before he could dwell on that thought any longer, an outburst of shouting caught his attention. He raised his gaze, staring at the door, terrified of what was coming. The voices grew louder, and they sounded angry – not the abrasive speech that the Marleyans usually had, but genuine anger. Several men were shouting over each other, and Eren whimpered as he could only imagine what they were arguing about.

The locks on the other side of the door clanged. The sound of metal hitting metal with substantial force reverberated all around him, and Eren could do nothing but curl in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them as he anticipated the worst.

As the door swung open, three men appeared in the doorway. The light behind them silhouetted their forms, but even in the poor light Eren could see their faces were obscured. Each man had an AK-47; three barrels were pointed directly at him, and in that moment Eren realized he didn’t even know what the hell AK-47 meant.

“You!” the man in the middle shouted, pointing his gun aggressively at Eren. Eren pinched his eyes shut, waiting for the ring of gunfire that would end his life. It never came. Instead, the man yelled out, “Name!”

Eren replied quickly, saying his name in a voice much too small and much too shaky to be audible. The man grunted and waved the gun at Eren, shouting in a language Eren didn’t understand before demanding his name once more.

“Eren!” the brunet cried out, voice cracking. “Eren Yeager! Eren!”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

“Eren,” the man repeated, his accent making the name sound like something entirely different. He lowered his weapon, turned and left.

Eren breathed a sigh of relief, but that breath caught in his throat when he saw one of the men was still lingering in the doorway.

There was something sinister in his dark, beady eyes as he glared at Eren, a lust for something inhuman that chilled the pilot to the bone. The man stood silently and stared. After a minute, those beady eyes crinkled a bit at the corners as if the man were _smiling_. Fear licked at Eren’s spine as he wondered why the hell the man was looking at him with what had to be a twisted smile behind the mask, but before he could linger on the thought, the man suddenly shut the door. The locks clanged, and a barely a few seconds later, Eren was left with nothing but the ringing of fear in his ears.

A choked sob tore through Eren before he put both his dirty hands over his mouth to prevent more sounds from leaking out. The rest of his body wasn’t so lucky; he could feel a small patch of wet warmth in his underwear, and quickly realized that he had, in fact, pissed himself. He was surprised that there was anything to excrete, and silently glad that it was so little. The smell of his own urine reached his nose then, causing him to pinch his eyes shut and let the cries he’d held in until now come out. Hunched in on himself at the back of the cell, Eren’s body shook relentlessly as he cried tearlessly, the direness of his situation finally fully registering in his mind.

He could only hope and pray to whatever god was willing to listen that someone, somewhere out there was looking for him. Hell, even that was a prayer too great; Eren could only hope that he would live through the night, and that the men that had taken him did not plan on executing him before those at home even knew he was missing.

* * *

Eren woke to the sound of water trickling against metal. The glorious sound seemed to speak directly to his soul, rousing him from a deep sleep he couldn’t remember ever falling into. As he made to sit up, he realized that he was already sitting upright, and that was when he realized that he had fallen asleep sitting against the wall at the back of the cell. Turning his head this way and that, he was surprised that he had no kinks or pains, and silently thanked his youth for carrying him through a night in a horrendous sleeping position. His relief, however, was short lived; as his eyes came into focus, he saw the dirty brown of the cell, and his heart sank.

He had naively hoped that it had all just been a bad dream. That hope was mercilessly crushed as he took in his surroundings, the same dirty cell of his nightmare materializing right before his eyes.

This was no nightmare. This was his reality. His life.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, before taking a deep, shuddering breath. His throat hurt, and he could hear himself tremble as he inhaled. He held his breath in an attempt to ease the trembling, but it persisted as he exhaled slowly. Even after doing it a dozen times, he couldn’t stop the shaking. Another profanity left his lips as he looked around at the brown nothingness around him, thinking that this could very well be the last time he’d wake up.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered. He could be killed today. His humiliating execution filmed and broadcast for all the world to see. Millions would see the fear in his eyes as he takes his last breath, violently beheaded in some unknown corner of this godforsaken pit of a country.

And for what? Hours? Experience? _Fun? _There was nothing fun about this.

A deep anger welled up inside of him as he thought about his defiance against Levi. His insistence, his persistence. He wanted to beat himself up for going against a man whose life was built on war. He wondered what the hell he was thinking, to assume what he, at only twenty-fucking-three, knew about the world that Levi did not. _This _world, nonetheless, that had seen Levi reach incredible riches. How stupid must he have been to disregard Levi’s arguments? Was he that career driven that he was willing to negate the facts in favor of stats?

Yes, he was. And not only did he deeply regret it, but he loathed himself for it.

Another profanity slipped through his lips as he, once again, took in the brown nothingness around him. It was still dark in the cell, and he wondered if it was still night, or if he was simply confined underground. He wondered what these people had planned for him – did they want ransom? Did they want to kill him to make an example out of him?

Eren couldn’t imagine a less dignified death than being slaughtered for a cause and filmed as he bled out.

However, now that he’d slept, some of his resignation had bleed away. Whether he’d slept the night or just a few minutes, he didn’t know, but he felt wide awake as he considered his fate.

By now, Titan had to know he was missing. Not only did the aircraft have a tracker that would show it never returned to Lago, but there were also dozens of eyewitnesses at the M.E.A Base that would’ve surely reported a civilian pilot being taken. Some search had to be underway by now, of that he was sure…but he wondered if _his_ people had been notified. His friends, his family.

His anger and sorrow quickly yielded to dread. Even if they had been notified, what could they possibly do? The Eldian couple that was once kidnapped in Marley were held captive for months, hell, years, even though the world knew they had been taken.

If Eren had any hope, it had already died.

With still no sign of Zeke, Eren concluded that his captain had either been killed or left behind by the militants.

The irony was sickening.

Sighing, Eren ran both his hands through his hair as his eyes scanned the room again. The door was ajar, and there was a figure standing there, but that was all lost to him the second his eyes landed on a small metal cup near the door, droplets running down into a small puddle around it.

_Water! _Eren thought, unable to fight the smile that tugged at his lips.

Like an animal possessed by instinct, Eren scampered on his hands and knees to the cup, uncaring of the tiny stones cutting into his palms and knees as he crawled towards his salvation. The thirst that had seemingly been put at bay suddenly came back with a vengeance, and Eren whimpered at the pain of his throat closing in on itself, greedily grabbing at the cup, knowing relief was only seconds away.

When his hands grabbed the cup, Eren didn’t care that it was warm. Hell, he’d drink boiling water right now if he had to! Without sparing it any more thought, Eren lifted the cup to his lips and greedily gulped down the uncomfortably warm water. It was bitter and salty, but he didn’t care. Even though it was warm, it soothed the burn of dehydration that had made his throat raw. After a few gulps, his lungs ached for more oxygen, and while still holding the cup tilted against his mouth, Eren inhaled deeply.

A pungent stench filled his nostrils, one he instantly recognized, and it was then that the horrifying realization dawned on him – it wasn’t water he was drinking.

He gagged violently, feeling the fluid rise in his throat before swallowing it back down as he threw the cup against the wall. It clanged as the rest of its contents spilled out, and Eren glared at the fluid as it darkened the dusty floor around it. Gagging again, Eren’s mind scrambled to catch up to what his body had already recognized, a scent so pungent it would be recognizable to any animal that walked the earth.

Urine.

This time when he gagged, he brought up the few gulps he had drunk and then some. The bile burnt his already raw throat as he doubled over on the spot, continuing to dry-heave painfully even after his stomach had expelled everything that was in it. It burnt. Oh god, it burnt so much, and the taste of bile was gut-wrenching in its own right, but he would take that vile taste a thousand times over what he had just ingested. Just the thought of his had him dry-heaving some more, tears pooling in his eyes as his body tried to turn his stomach inside-out.

Laughter erupted from the doorway.

Eren lifted his gaze, and through watery eyes he saw a man. The man wore dark green and brown camos, a military uniform that was at least two sizes too big for him. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to above his elbows, and the pants were tucked in into boots that had seen better days. Belts of ammunition adorned his torso, and he had a machine gun thrown over his shoulders, held in place by his arms that were hooked haphazardly around the muzzle and the butt. A light-colored cloth was wrapped around his face, leaving only beady eyes exposed…beady eyes that Eren recognized the second he saw the telltale crinkles of a sinister smile round them.

Eren pulled his lips back as if to snarl, but his action was completely ignored by the man. Instead, the man simply grabbed his crotch and bounced his hand up and down, pointing at the cup on the floor. Another round of raucous laughter erupted from the man as he stood with his legs spread, imitating that godawful hissing sound of someone pissing.

_Fucking bastard!_ Eren thought, glaring at the man, his emerald hues furiously burning with the heat of hatred boiling up inside of him. He wanted nothing more than to stab that fucker right in the dick! Oh, if he got half the chance, he would fucking tear this animal apart limb for limb!

“Fuck you!” Eren hissed.

The man immediately stopped laughing. Despite the language barrier, he obviously understood the curse. Eren’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake, but it was too late. The man yelled back at him, the abrasive language making the curses sound like threats to his life as the gun was raised and pointed right at Eren.

“Fuck!” Eren whimpered, scampering to the back of the call and realizing, with horror, that there was nothing to hide behind. Like a deer in the headlights, he looked into the black depths of the machine gun’s barrel, frozen in place as he waited for the inevitable. A high-pitched whine rang in his ears as his blood rushed through his veins at inhuman speed, his fight or flight response begging him to take action, but sheer panic overriding instinct and keeping him rooted in place, frozen in time.

This was the end. A low whine escaped his throat and he shut his eyes, praying that it would be over quickly. Looking at the sheer size of the bullets, he was sure one squeeze of the trigger would tear his body apart. He could imagine that it wouldn’t be painful, and could only hope that was true. He focused on the painful pounding of his heart in his throat, waiting for the deafening bang that would be the last thing he would ever hear.

Instead of a gunshot, more voices came. He peeked an eye open just in time to see another militiaman pulling the first away, but not before the latter sent Eren a bone-chilling glare filled with the promise of pain.

The door slammed shut, and a tirade of angry voices disappeared as the militia left him alone once more.

As if captivity wasn’t bad enough, he’d just gone and made it impossibly harder for himself.

For the first time since arriving in this hell, Eren completely broke down. He did not care if it looked weak; he simply couldn’t hold it in any longer. He was thousands of miles away from his home, in a place he didn’t know, held by men who wanted nothing more than to see him suffer. Hell, he had just drunk another man’s urine! He did not know if and when he would get food. For all Eren knew, today would be his last day alive.

Eren buried his face in his arms and let out quiet, tearless sobs. He wished to be back home, in his comfortable bed with Levi, having had a warm plate of food and a nice cold beer. He wished he could touch Levi, see him, or even just hear his voice. Eren would give anything for that. He would even give up flying if it meant one more kiss from Levi. Hell, he would give up his life for just one kiss.

Only now, it was too late. He had the chance to put Levi above his career, and like the selfish bastard he was, he chose his career. And this is what he had to show for it.

_I’m sorry, Levi! _Eren thought as he cried tearlessly. He wished and prayed that Levi could hear his heartfelt apology and could feel the suffocating magnitude of his regret. If only he’d listened. _Fuck! _If only he’d listened to Zeke he wouldn’t be here. If only he’d listened to Levi, none of this would have ever happened.

If only he had fucking _listened_.

Now it was too late, and all Eren could do was weather the storm of ‘if onlys’ that rained down on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read!
> 
> Sorry for torturing our beloved Eren like that :(
> 
> NOTE:  
KHAT: A plant that contains the alkaloid cathinone, a stimulant, which is said to cause excitement, loss of appetite, and euphoria. The leaves and twigs are usually chewed.
> 
> Comments are always welcome :)
> 
> Much love  
OS


	11. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!! Thank you for the comments and kudos...it is the lifeblood of a fanfic writer!
> 
> Truth be told, I had this chapter ready when the last one was released but there was something that sat ill with me so I wrote and re-wrote it over and over in the last week. This rendition is the 12th rewrite...no exaggeration! Reason therefore is I felt like it was a boring chapter and later saw that it was quite a necessary one...but anyway, I hope it is sufficient for you!
> 
> Anyway, we get into a bit of Levi here...
> 
> Please do enjoy! :)

Since that fateful phone call from none other than Rico fucking Brzenska, Levi had been living a torturous loop that had her cold and clinical voice on repeat. _The aircraft never returned to Lago this afternoon._ Those words ran through Levi’s mind over and over, Rico’s voice never wavering no matter how many times Levi’s mind tried to insert some urgency into it. No matter how hysterical Levi’s mind got, Rico’s voice – and Levi’s manifestation thereof – simply never humanized. She spoke nothing but cold, hard facts, not caring for the horror behind that simple phrase.

Rico was as close to a robot as a human being could possibly be.

What now felt like a lifetime ago, Levi loved that about her. He loved that everything about her seemed immaculately scripted, making it seem like she was perfectly in control of everything, even the variables, in her life. It was the single most attractive quality Levi could have imagined in a partner, but it was that very quality that made Levi later wonder if her betrayal was scripted as well.

With time, closure came. He learnt to overcome the heartache, and had learnt to love Eren more through it all. Now, Eren was gone – taken, disappearing into the middle of the Marleyan desert, and Rico could say nothing more than _the aircraft never returned to Lago this afternoon_.

Levi had been stuck in that loop, reliving the short yet life-changing phone call over and over as he sped to Titan’s head office. He’d made it there within the hour, and even then, Rico could say nothing more. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought she didn’t care. More than once, he wondered if she even knew who Eren was.

Hours later, the full scope of the incident became apparent:

The aircraft was ambushed while on the ground. Militants opened fire indiscriminately, causing substantial damage to the aircraft. There were five fatalities, none of which were Eldian. Zeke Yeager, the captain, was shot but was receiving medical care at the M.E.A Base. Eren Yeager, the first officer, was taken as a hostage by the militants who had, moments earlier, been apparently shooting to kill anything that moved.

So damn clinical, but she spoke nothing but the truth. And Levi hated it.

If _anything_, was she not at least concerned about the financial and legal implications of this misadventure? Levi had heard the figures being thrown around – the hundreds of thousands of dollars it would take to get the plane into a flyable state to bring it back home for full hull repairs – and even that didn’t faze the woman in the least. Rico was frighteningly calm, and for the first time in his life, Levi realized what he likely looked like to those around him.

Ruthless, calculating, inhuman.

It was nothing but business.

It was perfect, but Levi hated it.

Within days of the incident, men and women had been dispatched to assess the damage on the aircraft, while Zeke Yeager had been sent home to act in his full capacity as the security liaison for Titan. Aside from the bandages on his leg and the crutches he’d been ordered to use to walk, he looked like a million dollars…and nothing made Levi angrier. One would be hard-pressed to say he was involved in a shootout and abduction; all charming smiles, handshakes and winks, Zeke Yeager looked like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Zeke Yeager was the perfect symbol of diplomacy. And Levi deplored it.

Levi had confronted Zeke. Nearly violently. _How dare you leave Eren behind? How dare you abandon your fucking first officer? How selfish can you be!_

Levi wanted to murder the man! He wanted to grab Zeke by the neck and throttle him while letting him know that he was the scum of the earth for abandoning a civilian in a war-torn hellhole. But he did not. Levi knew that nothing would come of him giving into his violent impulses…perhaps it was the knowing, somewhere deep down in the back of his mind, that Zeke was as much a victim as everyone else.

Somehow Levi expected a damn soldier to have been able to keep Eren safe. If anyone could have done it, it was Zeke. What Levi realized – but stubbornly refused to accept – was the fact that if even Zeke couldn’t do it, it meant that it couldn’t be done.

Within days of the incident, a team had been set up and made their way to Marley to analyze initial reports. Zeke had said, with unwavering certainty, that the group that attacked them were affiliated with Al-Mar – one of the biggest factions of the Marleyan Opposition, a very well-funded and well-organized international extremist group set on getting rid of the Mid-East Alliance’s influence on the Marleyan government. They wanted all foreign intervention in the country to back away, so that they could reestablish their old monarchy despite having failed dismally to cruel dictators in the past.

Throughout this, Zeke had contacted a company specializing in hostage-related negotiations for the release of hostages in hostile territories, but they were yet to become involved.

Rico had invited Levi to Marley, and while the man appreciated the invite, he deplored the fact that he was not welcome there on his own volition.

When Levi arrived in Marley, five days after Eren was taken, over a decade of repressed memories threatened to assault him. So much had changed, yet at the same time, everything was still the damn same – the people, the conflict, the _khat_. It was as if when the world progressed, Marley was left behind. Even the air had the same stench to it; stagnant, lifeless, desperate.

The only noticeable development in Lago was the influx of foreign development to house the thousands of private contractors and international militaries that swarmed the city, but even that was minimal. The foreigners who lived and worked here were truly given the bare minimum to survive – a bed, a toilet, food and drink, and aircons in the rooms.

Levi wanted to scoff at that – back when he had been here, they lived in tents with no aircon, and they’d survived the humid, seaside, equatorial heat.

_Back when men were still men, _Levi thought, despite thanking the heavens for the AC.

When Levi left Marley, all those years ago, he swore on pain of death that he would _never_ return. Now that he was here, he realized that there was truly nothing he wouldn’t do for Eren; he would travel to the darkest, vilest places on earth, and relive his worst traumas if it meant it would bring his Eren back.

* * *

Two days in Marley – one week after Eren’s abduction – and still nothing.

Sitting in the newly built conference room at the base camp where the Eldian flight crew resided, Zeke, Rico and Levi were spaced out along a long table with no less than three chairs between each person…it was a petty way to show hostility, but Levi refused to sit near the man who could have saved Eren, or the woman who apparently didn’t care about his wellbeing. Several other men and women filled some of the seats; M.E.A soldiers, Eldian soldiers and private security. There, they scrutinized intel on Al-Mar’s recent movements and poured over evidence and eyewitness testimonies to try and find some correlation between recent attacks and Eren’s abduction.

All efforts had thus far been fruitless.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Ackerman, but our hands are tied at this stage,” Zeke said in response to yet another one of Levi’s outbursts.

Levi clenched his jaw in an effort to calm himself down, wondering idly if his lifestyle had left him spoilt with getting results on demand. Right now, he couldn’t be further out of his depth, and the fact that he had no control over the situation – and very little information on the situation itself – had him on edge and out for blood.

“But I am certain they haven’t, and won’t, kill him,” Zeke continued.

Levi glared at the man; even though they’d only just come back from lunch, he could already feel a pounding headache building as his blood pressure shot up. “But no guarantee?”

Despite his position, his experience and a level of diplomacy that had even had Levi question the man’s career choice, Zeke’s patience was running thin. He deplored being challenged in his area of expertise, never mind by someone who knew nothing of it. Between Levi’s outbursts, cussing and temperamental slamming of fists on tables, Zeke was quickly growing sick of the businessman.

Were it not for the financial implications, Zeke would have demanded Levi be sent home and would have forbade any further involvement.

“Mr. Ackerman,” Zeke said, the venom in his tone thinly veiled, “if they wanted Eren dead, he would already be dead.”

Levi’s gut rolled at the very thought. He balked, temporarily rendered catatonic as he briefly imagined a life without Eren. A world where Eren would never come home again, never smile, never laugh, never do any of the mundane shit that usually drove Levi up the wall. No more coffee in the mornings, or messy kitchens as yet another internet recipe didn’t go as flawlessly as Eren had hoped. For just a crippling moment, Levi imagined what it would be like to live in a world where the name Eren Yeager would be nothing more than a sad utterance between those who once knew him and would forever love him and cherish his memory. A world where Eren’s body would rot away on foreign soil, never laid to rest; a world where those left behind could only hope the soul robbed of its life too soon would find peace.

The grief the man experienced in that single moment was sobering, the weight of it so great that he felt like he’d been crushed. Nevertheless, he steeled his expression, putting forth his best stoic façade in the wake of unimaginable agony.

Zeke was not fooled; he’d spoken those harsh words specifically to elicit this reaction from the businessman, partly because he was growing sick of Levi and partly because he enjoyed the shock factor. His enjoyment of the moment was better schooled than Levi’s suffering.

A moment later, Levi spoke, voice somber. “How do we know he’s not?”

“It would’ve made the news somewhere,” Zeke said. His detached demeanor chilled Levi to the bone, and the businessman could only wonder what horrors Zeke had seen in his life to have become like this.

Levi knew of Zeke’s extensive military background, although it was told through the eyes of an awed fan – none other than Eren, who was quite chuffed that he and Zeke shared a last name, despite it being a rare surname. Even Levi found it kind of cool, but now, he deplored the fact.

“They aren’t in the business of catching and killing expats for sport,” Zeke continued. His eyes remained impassive behind those small-framed, round spectacles, and Levi idly wondered if the man had no sense for trends in eyewear or if he simply didn’t care for it. Either way, Levi was growing increasingly antsy, wanting nothing more than to punch those little spectacles right off the man’s face.

_Relax, _Levi told himself, clenching his fist under the table as he impatiently waited for Zeke to continue.

Zeke sat back in his chair, relaxed, eyes trained on Levi with the barest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

_This fucker, _Levi thought, knowing this play. A power play where a person is well aware that they are riling up another, and purposefully obnoxiously displays exaggerated calm to further drive the other into rage. And oh, it was working. Even though Levi knew what it was, and had done it thousands of times himself, Zeke’s attitude was driving him up the wall.

And that alone pissed him off even more.

“They are extremists,” Zeke eventually said, breaking eye contact with Levi and taking a moment to look at everyone in the room. He commanded everyone’s undivided attention, and Levi hated the amount of power this man had…even if it was, admittedly, admirable. “Everything they do is supposed to send a message or reach an objective. They want to incite fear in those that oppose them but keep the confidence of those that support them. If they were to kill civilians, even foreigners, without abandon, their followers would lose faith in them. Remember, most of their followers are civilians, and they need to know they will be safe under their rule.”

The soldiers and security personnel in the room hummed in agreement, while Levi bit his tongue to resist the urge to click it. There was no denying that what Zeke said was one hundred percent true, but it was hard to maintain a rational line of thinking when the “civilian” in question was his own lover. His life.

“What about the two peacekeepers that were robbed and killed two weeks ago?” Levi challenged.

“Unrelated incident,” Rico answered.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Rico,” Levi hissed, fixing her with a hard glare.

She glared back, unperturbed by the hatred in Levi’s eyes, matching the weight of his glare ounce for ounce. That used to impress Levi. Now, it made his blood boil.

Another man spoke then. He was large in stature, bald and bearded, and he had tattoos running the lengths of both his arms. Someone who worked in private security, he looked like a man bred for war. “Al-Mar declared they had nothing to do with it. That was an opportunistic attack, most likely by one of the local clans. And believe me, Al-Mar do not take kindly to such senseless violence.”

_How ironic, _Levi thought. An extremist faction hellbent on getting all foreigners out of the country by whatever violent means possible, berating smaller factions for the senseless killing of unarmed civilians.

The politics of this country never made sense to Levi.

Inter-clan conflict ran rife in Marley. Small factions made up of families or other social ties were desperate to earn the respect of Al-Mar, which would eventually lead to association with the most dominant faction. With association, came protection – from foreign militaries, and even from their own government. Al-Mar was nothing more than a massive mafia operation, with the added objective of trying to incite a violent coup d'etat.

“So how do we know that Eren wasn’t just taken by some clan?” Levi asked. He sighed, pinching his eyes shut for a moment before fixing Zeke with a pointed glare. “What if this is a gig by some stupid fucking clan to catch Al-Mar’s attention?”

“The attack was too organized for that,” Zeke said. He had already detailed his account – the vehicles used, the amount of men used in the attack and their coordination. Even Levi couldn’t argue with Zeke on that point. “Besides, the man that spoke to the militia before Eren was taken is a man of high standing, and very professional. That I can guarantee.”

The finality with which Zeke said that was as unsettling as it was suspicious. Being in business, Levi could tell when someone was hiding something. An ace up one’s sleeve in his line of work could be the difference between a multi-million dollar deal or nothing. And right now, Levi could tell Zeke was hiding something, but he could also tell that no amount of bullying, threatening or tantrums would get it out of the man.

So instead of attack, yet again, Levi just sighed, exhausted by what he considered another wasted day. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was already past three in the afternoon, and after having been in and out of the conference room all day with no developments, Levi was at his wit’s end.

“Long story short, I still firmly believe Eren is safe,” Zeke said, seemingly concluding the meeting. He pointed at the map on the screen with a laser-pointer before turning his attention to the security and armed forces. “We have an idea of where he is, but we have no military support or permissions for any search and rescue operations.”

Those words pissed Levi off to his core, and everyone’s unquestioning acceptance of them only further heightened that rage. How could a country send one of its civilians to work in a war zone but not be prepared to take action in the event of a calamity? Logistically and politically, he understood exactly why, but his heart was impeding his rationality, and he found himself impossibly irked at the damn incompetence of a military body that he paid millions of dollars in tax money to every year.

“And like I said earlier, the last thing we want to do is spook them,” Zeke said, looking pointedly at Levi. “They _will _make contact, and soon. If we initiate anything before they do, they will panic and have to change their MO…and if they do that, we are blind.”

And just like that, Levi reached the end of his tether.

He sprung up from his chair, uncaring of all eyes in the room falling to him. “Are we done for the day then?”

Zeke eyed Levi for a moment, an agonizingly long moment, as if he were trying to silently assert his dominance in this domain. And as much as Levi wanted to fight it, he knew an alpha when he saw one, so instead of spit another snarky remark, Levi bit his tongue and glared at Zeke, waiting for the man to speak.

Eventually, Zeke said, “Yes. We are done.

Without another word, Levi left the conference room.

As soon as he left, not bothering to shut the door, Rico exhaled loudly and looked to Zeke, her trusted security liaison. The man tore his gaze from the door Levi had just exited, and in a hushed voice said to her, “Having him so close to this is dangerous.”

Rico shook her head. “If you can get him to back off, be my guest.” She waved her hand dismissively at the door. “But that’s a man that wants results, and he will stop at nothing until he gets them.”

“This is not business,” Zeke said, turning away from Rico as he gathered his things. “This is out of his area of expertise and if he gets too involved, he’s going to get Eren killed.”

* * *

Levi went straight for the bed once he was in the room – Eren’s room.

When he’d arrived at the base, he recognized everything from the hundreds of videos and photos Eren had sent him. The businessman was offered prime accommodation in one of the executive rooms, but had declined, requesting to be put in Eren’s room. Even though he thought it was childish, being in the room his lover had called home for nearly five weeks somehow made him feel closer to his brat.

He was surprised that Eren’s room was as neat as it was. Yes, there was a service that cleaned the room daily, but it wasn’t just that. Eren’s desk was immaculately organized, and the clothes in his cupboard were all neatly folded and sorted – one shelf was dedicated to neatly stacked piles of underwear (sorted by fabric and cut) and socks; on another shelf, his sleeveless shirts were on one pile and T-shirts on another; on the third shelf were two piles of shorts, one pile for everyday wear and another for working out (very short shorts that Eren always joked showed off his “long, shapely legs”).

Eren’s organizational skill were impressive, but he’d chalked it down to sheer boredom. It was the same reason he’d taken to working out regularly.

Levi smiled slightly to himself as he recalled the conversation where Eren told him the food at the base was so good that he would get fat if he didn’t work out. Levi implored him to stay in shape, and Eren was all too happy to acquiesce after he’d tasted the sweet rush of endorphins. He told Levi about his workout for the day every single night when they spoke on the phone – whether it was jogging along the seaside, or an hour at the gym – and Levi found that many times he grew bored of Eren incessantly hammering on about how he’d finally managed to bench one-fifty…a feat that was far below par for Levi. Now, he missed it. He realized that he’d taken for granted those precious moments, Eren’s milestones, and as he lay on Eren’s bed, he realized that he would be able to recite every one of Eren’s personal bests if asked. Just because it was boring, it didn’t mean he wasn’t listening.

On the bedside table, was a photo. It was a picture – or rather a selfie – that Eren had snapped of the two of them at the beach some years back. Eren was wearing obnoxious aviator sunglasses, smiling brightly like the sunny brat that he was, while Levi was left to squint grumpily into the sun. Eren’s shit-eating grin was a stark contrast to Levi’s scowl, yet despite that, Eren reckoned that was his favorite picture of the two of them. He’d had it printed and framed especially for his tour, to, as he said, remind him of his grumpy little fucker back home. Levi wanted to smack him upside the head for it, but now he found himself loving the stupid photograph.

After a moment of reminiscing, Levi grabbed his phone. He logged into Skype and dialed Mikasa, not knowing or caring if she was able to talk at that moment. Since he was her mediator in all things regarding Eren’s wellbeing, the two had agreed to an open-door policy, and Levi was more than happy to be transparent. He was just as pissed as she was that she was no longer welcome at the talks regarding Eren’s status, but he did understand why they had decided that.

Her attempted assault on Zeke – and her subsequent booting from all meetings – was one of the very few reasons Levi controlled himself around the man.

The oddly soothing Skype ringtone sounded for barely a second before Mikasa answered.

“Did you hear anything?” she asked.

Levi sighed. “Still nothing.”

Mikasa sighed then. “It’ll be fine,” she said, more to herself than Levi. She was frowning, eyes closed. “Eren will get through this.”

_It’s not up to him, _Levi thought, but instead said, “Yeah, he’s one resilient brat.” He glanced at the picture beside the bed, his heart clenching at the sight of Eren’s blindingly cheerful smile. “He’ll make it out just okay.”

“So they’ve heard nothing?” Mikasa asked. Levi shook his head. “But is everything okay?”

Mikasa and Levi’s thoughts had run parallel on the whole situation; while no news was certainly good news, the fact that they’d heard nothing was deeply unsettling. Mikasa was doing a damn good job of keeping calm, or at least showing Levi that mask. He couldn’t imagine what Jean Kirstein was being subjected to whenever their calls ended.

“No,” Levi said. “Zeke seems confident that this is a targeted attack and not an opportunistic one.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that they won’t kill him.” Levi’s curt tone made Mikasa flinch. He took a deep breath, not caring to apologize. “He’s sure contact will be made soon.”

“How soon?”

“Next few days.”

Mikasa’s masked slipped for just a second as she hissed out, “They said that a few days ago.”

“I know,” Levi said quietly. He idly noted that this was the most empathetic he’d been to another person’s pain in as long as he could remember.

A moment of silence passed between them. Mikasa was staring right at her camera while Levi stared off at the roof, feeling her dark eyes on him. He didn’t know what to say.

“When are you flying back?” she suddenly asked.

“Tomorrow evening,” Levi said. “I’ll be there on Wednesday night.”

“I’ll pick you up,” Mikasa said.

When Levi left for Marley, with nothing but a backpack in his frenzy, he hadn’t booked a ticket back. But two days in, with no progress and realizing how utterly useless he was in this situation, Levi booked a ticket back home. After all, he still had a company to run, and despite having left his affairs for the week in capable hands, the new deal with Garrison Inc. still had to be nursed. Levi could not afford any delays on equipping the aircraft he’d signed for, and even though his work was the last thing on his mind, it would keep him busy in this tumultuous time.

“Thank you,” Levi said. He was going to have his own driver pick him up, but he wouldn’t deny Mikasa this. This was as involved as she could be, and he wasn’t heartless enough to deprive her of that.

“Just send me your flight details,” Mikasa said.

“Will do.”

The two said their curt goodbyes and ended the call. Levi quickly changed into Eren’s exercise clothes – shorts and a running vest that sat strangely well on him – before making off for a jog along the seaside.

Even though he’d only been there for a few days, the boredom had been gnawing at him. He’d visited the heartbreakingly under-equipped gym twice every day, with a jog on the road alongside the sea once a day. With the amount of anxiety raging through him, his medication was doing little to pacify him, and he had to burn off his excess energy and exhaust himself in the only way he knew how.

As Levi jogged alongside the sea for the third time that week, he found himself thinking yet again that this place was truly a ‘shithole’. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that he could see the ocean, he would be hard pressed to say he was anywhere near the sea; the air was so stuffy and dusty that the fresh brininess associated with seaside air was nowhere to be found. The gravel road on which he ran was as brown-grey as everything else in sight. The drop into the ocean was sharp, and jagged rocks promised three to eight meters of absolute hell, or death, for whoever would be unfortunate enough to jump. If the cliffs wouldn’t tear a man apart limb for limb then the ocean surely would; the waves crashed furiously against the jagged cliffs, the angry lapping of water against the rocks only highlighting the hostility of the water. The hostility of the city, of the country.

Ships could be seen in the distance, moving to the port just north of the city, and Levi idly wondered how much money came into Lago daily through trade. He tried to ignore the nagging snarl in his head that chided him for his company’s recent developments – technology that would none too soon come to this very country. Instead of fixate on that, Levi turned his attention to the smaller boats nearer to shore; small, motorized fishing boats with no more than two to five people per boat, traversing the waves as if the hostility of these shark-infested waters was nothing to write home about. To them, it probably wasn’t; to them, this was normal. Levi reckoned it would take one hell of a stomach to not get sick on these rough waters.

On the other side of the road, hidden behind an auspicious hill that had a poor excuse for fencing at its foot, was a shooting range. The action – and danger – was hidden from civilians behind the hill, but Levi could hear the staccato firing of semi-automatic weapons. Eren often spoke about the “soundtrack of his day”, saying he quite enjoyed having a beer in the afternoons as the soldiers practiced on the range. He’d said, on more than one occasion, that he found the sound “pretty cool”.

To Levi, it was anything but. A single gunshot was associated with crime. A murder, robbing, a hijack. However, bursts of gunfire from semi and full automatic weapons meant full on conflict. Shooting with the intent to kill, and kill as many as possible. Levi hated it, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still able to tell what weapons were being fired by sound alone.

He idly wondered just how many of Colossus’ products were on the range.

He wondered if Eren had been taken by the barrel of a gun his own company had designed.

_Fuck._

Gritting his teeth, Levi turned up the volume on his earphones so high it hurt, but at this point he’d rather have his ears bleed than let his mind wander. He pushed harder, ran faster, his skin glistening as sweat dripped from him like water from a leaking faucet; the brutal Marleyan sun, and the near hundred degrees exacerbated by equatorial seaside humidity had Levi looking like he’d just stepped out of the ocean. But it wasn’t enough. His mind just would not shut up.

Had Eren been hurt? Shot, like Zeke? The security liaison – who Levi, quite frankly, found to be a pompous war-hungry adrenaline junkie and did not like one bit – was certain that Eren was unharmed. Zeke reckoned that the only reason he was not taken as well was because he was injured; an injured hostage would require medical assistance, which, in Zeke’s words, was not _good for business_.

As if Eren’s freedom, his _life_, was nothing more than a transaction.

_To them it probably is, _Levi thought sourly.

At one point, he’d stripped off his shirt and threw it to the ground. He had no interest in keeping it, and didn’t care what would come of it. It was soaked with his sweat and the filth of this godforsaken pit of hell. In fact, he would discard of all the clothes that this air had touched as soon as he arrived back home.

Eventually, after having run the length of the beach three times, a distraction finally came to Levi as he stopped to catch his breath. Standing at the edge of the airport, noting that all that separated him from the runway was a dilapidated three-foot wall and about a fifty yards of gravel, he watched a massive aircraft take to the skies.

He quickly identified it as a C17 Globemaster, an aircraft Eren had often described as a “damn marvel of engineering”. It was an aircraft Levi was familiar with, not because of Eren’s career and interest, but because it was common knowledge that that aircraft was only owned by the world’s richest and most powerful countries. It was an aircraft Colossus would have loved to equip, but an aircraft that was not designed for destruction, but rather for logistics.

Standing there, Levi thought to himself that warfare is built on logistics, not destruction...but that thought passed him by.

The massive machine took to the skies with poetic finesse, passing over Levi at no more than one hundred feet. Such proximity to a beast of that size, spitting out power that reverberated through Levi’s very core, was sobering at best. The man watched, awed, as the engineering marvel took to the skies with ease. He recalled then what Eren had once told him, that flying was an art more than it was the manipulation of physics, and for the first time ever, Levi understood what the man had said.

No accepted, not _kind of got it, _and definitely not shrugging it off.

Truly understood it.

Looking at the beast of a machine, she truly seemed to defy gravity. Fat and robust, she seemed like she would be nothing more than scrap metal. Yet there she was, one hundred feet and climbing, the reverberations of her power still rattling through Levi’s bones as she took to the skies.

The man watched the aircraft, awed like he’d never been before, as she zigzagged this way and that, before suddenly pointing her nose to the sky to initiate a climb that Eren would’ve likely described as _the space shuttle climb. _Maximum altitude in minimum ground distance; a tactic taught to young pilots to avoid obstacles but drilled into military pilots to avoid contact.

And that was when it all made sense to Levi.

Everything Eren had ever said.

_Levi, I want to do this._

_Levi, I need to do this._

_Trust me, I need to do this!_

_You won’t understand!_

_It’s contract, I can’t explain!_

Only, yes, Eren could explain, but he never knew how, and now it was too late. Too late, but Levi understood.

Eren never wanted to come here for the shits and the giggles. Yes, it would give him opportunities that would afford him bragging rights with his mates for years to come, but Eren did not want to come here for that. He wanted to come here because – and Levi saw this as he watched that beast take to the skies – Eren would never have the opportunity to fly an aircraft like _that_.

Normal operations – instruction, charters and airline – would see Eren exercising his right as a good pilot. A good aviator. But never would any circumstance in Eldia _ever _require him to fly a plane like this. Brazenly maneuvering an ark just hundreds of feet above the ocean…it was a feat reserved for the elite, for the legends, for the air force pilots that flew in the yonder years. And it was then that Levi realized that what Eren was chasing was not glory. It was not fame, nor was it the name. It was the simple feat. The act. The _I can do it. _The _I did it._ Because so few civilian pilots in Eldia could say the same, and would ever be able to do the same.

Eren was only twenty-three years old. He had at least another forty years of flying left in him, yet Levi was content with him reaching his career climax before thirty. For the first time, Levi was the one that felt selfish. If anything, Eren, a young and ambitious aviator, deserved to live his best life and fly his best years in conditions that few would ever get to see, to have an aviation career that he would never be able to revisit but forever be able to reap the benefit of.

It was then that Levi realized what Eren had never been able to tell him.

_It’s not about the job._

_It’s not about the hours._

_It’s about the experience._

_The experience._

_Experience._

Because Eren was never content with competent. Eren wanted to, and needed to be the best, and he would stop at nothing to be that.

War-torn hell-holes was clearly not an exception.

Because here, Levi reckoned as he saw the Globemaster fly like no aircraft of its size should ever fly, is where Eren would learn to _fly._ Not be a pilot. Not aviate. But truly _fly._

And that was all Eren _ever _wanted.

Levi could only hope that the price to pay for those skills wouldn’t be too great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you enjoyed the read! 
> 
> I personally found it a tedious chapter but after a gazillion times of going over it, I hope it came out okay!
> 
> Please remember, all thoughts and comments are welcome!
> 
> Super loves from your auth,  
OS


	12. End of Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you all for returning!
> 
> Thanks for the comments and thoughts...there is much to be suspicious about! Let us see where the next chapter takes us!
> 
> PS I apologize in advance if there are any errors in the chapter...it was edited hastily so I might have missed one or two things. If I have, please let me know. Thanks guys!

The trip to Marley did nothing to ease Levi’s mind. In fact, it only made things worse.

When he booked his ticket, against the advice from many people, he knew that it would do nothing at all. Yet he still booked it, foolishly hoping that the advice from the professionals and his own sinking gut-feeling of doom would be alleviated…at least to some degree. But no, all it did was foster an environment for that irksome feeling to grow, to fester, to the point where nothing else could draw his attention.

First and foremost, he worried for Eren. If he had been taken my Al-Mar, as Zeke had so brazenly suggested, then Eren could be subject to a plethora of inhuman tortures. Levi, which had seen, and heard firsthand accounts of the violence of the people of Marley, did not want to begin to imagine what Eren could be living through day and night: deprived of sleep, basic sanitation, food, and even water. Tortured, hurt, made to confess things he’d never heard before.

He could vividly imagine Eren strapped to a chair in a dusty, ill-ventilated room. With no room to move, Eren could squirm all he wanted and all it would do would make the chair move mere millimeters…because the chair was bolted to the ground. No matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to escape their claws.

That was only one of the scenarios Levi’s mind had conjured up. Waterboarding, was another. Electrocution right after. Whipping, cutting, removing his fingernails one for one…and no matter what Eren pleaded – because he was not a soldier nor a spy – they would go on because they wouldn’t believe him. Even if the tears were real. The pain. The blood.

But it wasn’t just Eren’s suffering that pissed Levi off. It was _everything._

Why was there still conflict in Marley? The so-called war had started more than twenty years ago, yet _still_ people were fighting there. To such a desperate extreme that they were sending civilian contractors in to do the bidding of a military that could not procure funding for an age-old conflict! Hah…it was laughable. Or, it would have been, if the very reason for his being was not caught up in the political hemorrhage.

It made Levi sick like it never had before.

And it brought back horrific memories that he would have preferred to leave be.

The face of his best friend, smiling and bright. Farlan was a handsome man, and had Levi been attracted to men at that age, he would’ve definitely found his friend cute. Hot, even. The man had eyes as blue as the sea on a sunny day, hair with a unique shade of platinum blond that people paid to achieve, and he had the body of a soldier who had seen warfare time and again. Not only that, but Farlan was a man above men: friendly, sociable, witty, and most of all kind. As much as he hated warfare, he would kill a man at point-blank range…but escort that man’s wife and children to safety. He was one of few that still believed in the fairness of the fight. Farlan was the kind of man many men aspired to be. If Eren had ever had met him, Eren would’ve had a hardon for him like he did Zeke.

But that would never happen, because Farlan was dead.

Killed in Marley, in Lago.

And that was why Levi vowed never to go back.

Yet he did. When he told Eren he would do anything for him, he never thought that going to Marley would be on the cards, yet it was. And he had done the trip, hated every second of it, and in the end had been presented with absolutely no progress. He made his way home, not just to turn tail on that godforsaken country, but because he still had a life in Eldia; a life without Eren, a timeline that would, regrettably, move forward without his other half.

And he hated how true that was.

The house was eerily quiet.

Eren had a knack of working late. The young pilot was not only eager for night hours, but also enjoyed flying at night. This often saw him crawling into bed in the early hours of the morning, which suited Levi just fine; he himself was a part-time insomniac, and enjoyed the night, so when Eren met him at those hours, they still had time to talk or make love…or whatever it was that lovers do. They had time. They were together.

But no more.

The irritating muffling of Eren’s music as his car pulled into the garage was no more. Oh, how many times had Levi complained about that? Over the years, Eren had gone from obnoxious blasting of club hits to confining it to his car, but the bass always reverberated through the house regardless. The brat was always inexplicably proud of the club prowess of his car.

As much as Levi hated it, he now missed it.

The house that greeted Levi now was silent. Dark. The nights stayed that way, with the quiet whirring of the aircon desperately trying to lull him into a slumber. Yet every night, despite the comforts of his riches, the bed was bare, cold; devoid of the companion he had devoted his life to.

And having been so close, yet so damn far, to getting him back, Levi was defeated.

He was torn out of his mournful reverie by a hard knock on his office door. It took him a moment to pull himself out of the depressing, ever-recurring memory of his home life, and to settle back into the fact that he was at work. In his office. Behind his desk, supposedly where the paperwork was meant to drag him into the abyss. He neatened up his already-impeccable desk before beckoning the knocker in, making sure to be as presentable as the face of Colossus should always be.

When he lifted his gaze, he saw Petra walking in, carrying a tray. On it, there was a teapot, two cups and saucers, and what appeared to be an array of biscuits.

The young woman was phenomenal. Strawberry blond, petite, beautiful…she was the face that any bigwig would love to have at his side. Yet Levi never hired her because of her dazzling beauty. He hired her because of capability, and if there was one thing that Petra did, it was exceed all expectation, even though that expectation was set far above her.

Without a word – only a smile that could be likened to nothing less than a ray of sunshine – she entered the office, closed and locked the door, and placed the tray on Levi’s immaculate desk. She proceeded to pour tea into both cups, before setting a small plate before Levi. It was only then that she spoke.

“I baked these myself,” she said. “I recall you quite liked ginger biscuits…it was years ago, but I hope your tastes haven’t changed.”

A pang tore through Levi’s heart at this. He nodded without realizing he’d done so, and watched, completely disassociated from his body, as Petra put two biscuits onto his plate.

_Fuck, _he thought.

His affair with Petra was brief. Years ago. They’d seen very early on that they had no more interest in one another than a dog to a fire hydrant at night…brief, satisfying, but absolutely nothing more. It was a cavalier ending, even though she wanted more, and as Petra got to know Levi better as a person, she became damn glad that she hadn’t pursued more – a fact that she was not afraid to share with Levi.

In any event, Levi knew he never deserved someone as pure as Petra, though he had never done more than imply the fact.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling as he took a biscuit.

It was perfect. Just like it was that first Valentine’s Day, and just like it was every time after that. Petra was not only a gifted baker, but she enjoyed it, and she poured her heart and soul into every batch she made…be it biscuits, cupcakes or cakes.

She beamed at the compliment. “I’m glad you like them.” She smiled bashfully as she added, “I hope you like the tea as well.”

Levi chuckled. “After so many years of making my tea, I’m sure you know how to by now.”

Just as Levi reached for the cup, Petra said, “This is different.”

The man paused, raising an imploring brow.

“It’s chamomile,” Petra said, her brows drawing together and eyes averting like a child who had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Levi was very particular about his tea, especially his relaxing blends (namely chamomile), so Petra was just in feeling unnerved at her confession.

“And what brought this on?” Levi asked, bringing the teacup to his face to inhale the aroma. It was invigorating; judging by the aroma alone, it was blended to perfection.

“Well…” Petra seemed hesitant at first, but knew better than to hold back on Levi. Aside from the fact that he was her boss and her direct superior, they were also friends. She sighed. “I know you’re stressed, Levi. I know you’re taking strain with everything that’s happening, and I know no one is giving you a break. So, let’s just damn well enjoy this tea and biscuits and forget the world outside this office for just ten minutes!”

For a moment, Levi was taken aback by Petra’s brazenness, but it quickly passed. The woman was known to be unafraid of him when most were, so all he could do was smile politely and cheers her, before taking a sip. While nothing was right with the world, while it was impossible to forget the dark reality of his life, that cup of tea was as close as it could come.

It was perfect. The blend of flavors was invigorating, and the warmth of the tea seeped into his very soul, bringing life to the parts of him that had died with Eren’s disappearance. That single sip was more of a saving grace than any drug, any pill or any amount of liquor had been since Eren had left.

But he never showed it.

“This is good,” Levi said, setting his cup back on the saucer.

Petra saw right through him. She knew that she had achieved what she had set out to achieve…to relax Levi, even if only a bit. She hated how good it made her feel, but she could not deny to herself that she was pleased.

For a while, the two sat in comfortable silence, drinking tea. For a while, Levi was deluded into thinking this was nothing more than just an impromptu tea date with Petra, which did happen now and again, but a part of him knew that that was just an illusion. In light of recent events, no one treated him the same. There was always a hushed curiosity about Eren and his situation, or a blatant gossiping about it. Despite his best efforts, he could not curb it. And as much as he tried to think this was normal of Petra, he couldn’t help but think there was more to it.

“Have you heard anything?” Petra inevitably asked.

Levi sighed. At the very least, he had to comment Petra on having the balls to ask him to his face.

“No,” he said, before reaching for his tea again. Despite it being well above a comfortable drinking temperature, he downed the rest.

A snide voice in the back of his mind mocked him, saying that that would be the only warmth he would ever receive again. He fought against it. Not willing to believe that Eren was lost forever.

Petra hummed thoughtfully at Levi’s response, before pouring another cup of tea for him. He had to admire the woman; either she had one hell of a poker face, or she truly knew how to handle him in this delicate state. Either way, he would take it.

“How long has it been?” she asked, despite very well knowing the answer.

“Twelve days.”

A beat of silence passed, and it was in that moment that her pity slipped. Unadulterated grief for a fellow human being. She schooled it as best she could, but Levi had seen it. He hated it, but he appreciated the fact that she wouldn’t turn her pitiful gaze towards him.

“I know it doesn’t mean much,” Petra said, and Levi gritted his teeth for what was to come, “but I’m sorry.”

He smiled ruefully at her. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

_But it didn’t. it happened to Eren. It happened to _you_._

Levi drank from his second cup of tea; it somehow tasted less sweet than the first. He knew he was being ambitious in thinking Petra would not show him pity, but he could expect nothing less. She was empathetic by nature, and as much as he wanted nothing more than to chase her out of his office, he didn’t have the heart to do so.

Out of everyone, Petra was the one doing this out of genuine compassion, and not just compassionate association.

“Thank you,” he eventually said. He did not know what else to say.

Petra smiled. “But I’ve heard there’s a company specializing in these sorts of cases that is working on bringing Eren back.”

Gossip. True, but gossip nonetheless.

“Yes,” Levi said, humoring her. “They uh…” The words got stuck in his throat, and he had to wash them down with more tea before attempting to speak them. “They specialize in cases where civilians get kidnapped in hot countries, and they uhm…negotiate their safe release.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Petra said, confused by Levi’s melancholic tone despite the facts.

“Yeah, yeah, they’re good,” Levi quickly said. He sighed heavily then. “But their expertise mean nothing when there are no negotiations yet on the table.”

Petra nodded and finished her tea, before pouring another cup for herself.

She smiled at Levi then. “Have faith. He’ll be fine.”

Levi smiled back, begrudgingly. He wondered what faith he could have in a god that he didn’t believe in, while Eren was at the barrel of the guns of men who believed in another god…one he also did not believe in.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

A long moment of silence passed between the two where they drank tea and ate biscuits. Levi had to admit, they were every bit as delicious as he’d always remembered them, but with every mouthful that he swallowed, he wondered if Eren was even eating. If Eren was even alive.

“I have some good news, if you’d like to hear…” Petra timidly said.

Levi wanted to laugh. Partly at the change of subject, but mostly because only someone who knew him well enough as Petra would dare bring the prospect of good news into his life right now. Petra knew him better than most, and her brazen announcement only solidified that. At the very least, it had him curious.

“Hmm?”

Petra grinned. “I’m pregnant.”

Levi’s brows shot up. Had he been holding his teacup, he would’ve dropped it. His mouth went slack as his eyes immediately dropped below the corporate red-tape of the collarbone, and he immediately searched Petra’s midriff for evidence of her words. There was none.

The woman giggled, admittedly chuffed that she’d been able to elicit such a strong reaction from Levi, especially in this state. He was not a man that could be easily shocked.

Before she could say anything else, Levi blurted out, “Auruo’s?”

Petra rolled her eyes. “Who the hell else, Levi?”

“One never knows these days,” Levi mumbled as he fumbled with his now empty cup of tea. Seeing that there was nothing left, he was forced to meet Petra’s eyes, and when he did, he frowned, unsure of what to do or say. “That’s…great?”

“It’s not unwanted,” Petra clarified.

“Oh,” Levi said, nodding. He nodded again, averting his eyes. And yet another nod, before he steeled his expression and looked right at Petra. “That’s good then. Congratulations.”

Knowing that Levi was rightfully uncomfortable, Petra laughed. It was a carefree laugh that almost had Levi smiling…had it not made him think of Eren. His boy had the same carefree laugh; head thrown back and eyes closed in the moment. It was as beautiful as it was tragic.

“Seven weeks now,” Petra suddenly said.

“You don’t need to advertise when your husband fucked you,” Levi retorted unthinkingly.

Petra’s eyes shot wide open and for just a moment, Levi regretted his words. She was not someone he could speak so brazenly to, despite their relationship. Yet in spite of this, she ended up chuckling, which put Levi at ease.

However, her next words almost had him gawk.

“You’re just jealous that he got some of this,” Petra teased, gesturing to herself with a sultry shake of her shoulders, even though she was cringing internally at her own behavior.

As shocked as Levi was by Petra’s display, he simply snorted and said, “Been there, done that.”

Ordinarily, Petra would have both metaphorically and physically curled into the fetal position and cringed for eternity at that statement. Yet right now, she saw that she was finally eliciting a reaction from Levi; she was bringing the pre-kidnapping Levi out to some degree and hell, even if it was at her own expense, she would keep gunning for it. So, with that in mind, she steeled herself for the barrage to come, and responded.

“Well, it sure is one hell of an upgrade from when you ‘did it’,” she snapped back sassily.

Levi was no simpleton. He knew Petra. He knew the game. He knew exactly what she was trying to do but he could not begrudge her on this because this particular topic was interesting to him, to say the least.

But two can play that game.

“Oh? How, pray tell?” Levi asked, with a curious raise of a single brow.

Petra pooled all her energy not to blush cherry red at the question. As much as she wanted Levi’s playful banter, his subtle questioning into her sex life was crossing a line that even her playful side could not adhere to.

Nevertheless, she steeled herself and said, “Time brings experience, Levi.”

She smirked cockily, something Levi had never seen her do, and damn…it was a damn attractive smirk. Confidence suited her well.

Levi, however, would not be bested. He fixed his best cocky smirk – one that had the most powerful women in the business world groveling for him to take them to bed – and promptly replied, “Experience can only be gained through the correct exposure.”

The woman’s hackles were raised; at this point, she didn’t care for the mortification of her own exposure – even her objective of cheering Levi up was forgotten – and now she simply had to best an ex-lover.

“Oh, there has been _plenty_ of that,” Petra sneered, “mark my words.”

Levi chuckled. “You have terribly low standards, Ms. Ral.”

Without missing a beat, Petra retorted with, “If that is true, then you aren’t as good as you think you are, Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi laughed. He’d never have expected Petra to be so cocky, much less so over her love life, and as taboo as the subject was between them, the humor in it was titillating. The man cleared his throat, before fixing Petra with a purposeful glare. “Are those the words of a woman in love?”

“Fucking isn’t rocket science, Levi,” Petra snapped, visibly excited. “And a man impregnating a woman isn’t any harder.”

“Ooh, temper, temper,” Levi teased.

Petra huffed before throwing herself back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. “What?”

Levi grinned. “Fucking isn’t rocket science…but you get a bad fuck and a good fuck.”

“And Auruo is much better than you could have ever been.”

A fact to Petra, a blatant insult to Levi, but all the man saw was a challenge to prove her wrong. He loved this conversation, and for the first time in days, he wanted to keep talking. Not for the sake of business or pleasantries, but because he was genuinely interested…even if only for the sake of his ego.

He had to best her.

“Eren would beg to differ,” Levi said.

“You’re the only person he ever fucked. Point null and void.”

Levi smirked, nodding. _Touché._

Just as Levi was about to respond to Petra, with what he thought was a burn that would either shut her up or have her blushing so hard that she could no longer continue the banter, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and when he saw _Rico Brzenska _come up on the caller ID, all the mirth dissipated like darkness before a spotlight. He sat bolt upright in his chair and grabbed his phone with such urgency that even Petra was roused, and the woman fixed him with a glare as he answered.

“Levi speaking,” he said.

“_Levi, it’s Rico._”

Levi’s blood turned to ice. Her detached tone, so appreciated in the business world, seemed incredibly impersonal given what they all had been through. Nevertheless, he did not react, and stayed silent, imploring the woman to speak.

Because Rico would only phone if something had happened. Rico would only contact him if they had heard something about Eren.

“_Can you speak?_”

How dare she even ask? Company be damned, Levi’s number one priority was Eren. If he had to walk out of a meeting securing the greatest merger in business history, then so be it, but Eren would come first.

“Yes!” Levi said, hating how desperate he sounded. “Did you hear anything?”

“_Yes. You’d better come in._”

Levi whined quietly and Petra’s heart clenched as she watched him.

“Is he alive?” Levi whispered.

“_Yes. We spoke to him. There’s a deal on the table._”

Before Rico could say another word, Levi hung up. He shoved his phone into his pocket and was on his feet faster that his galloping heart could pound three times. He could see Petra’s mouth moving, her concerned eyes trying to catch his gaze, yet he ignored it in his haste to get the hell out of his office and get on the road to Titan. In that moment, the little world he and Petra had built inside his office shattered, and reality had greeted him with a harsh, yet kind, slap through the face.

They had heard from Eren. There was a deal on the table.

And because of that simple fact, Levi knew that his nightmare would finally come to an end.

* * *

Eren had stopped trying to keep track of the days.

At first, he tried to gauge the days by the temperature changes wherever he was held, but with Marley daytime and nighttime temperatures more or less the same, he found that difficult to gage inside a building. He would feel the metal of the toilet, the taps, or the bars, but even they gave nothing away. He even tried to gage the wind, knowing the wind was calmer at night, but even that gave away nothing. He tried to guess based on how much food and water he was given, but that was unreliable; he felt constantly parched and constantly starved, and based on that alone, he didn’t know if the people were giving him water once a day or once every three days.

Eventually, he resigned to not knowing. He’d been moved around so much, driven around by men that all sounded the same, in vehicles that all felt the same, to places that all looked the same. The only difference in the places he was dumped into was that some cells had bars, while others had walls and an iron door. Some cells had a mattress, and some had nothing. One of the cells didn’t even have a toilet, and Eren was forced to use a bucket several times…that alone felt like three days.

Eventually, the movement stopped.

Perception of time barred, the current cell Eren was in was the one he’d been in the longest. It had bars in the front, like a person would imagine a typical jail cell to have, only the bars were covered with rust, and aged. There was a measly bedframe at the back of the cell, with the cleanest mattress Eren had seen since his ordeal had begun. It even had sheets. A pillow. The toilet worked, and the basin didn’t feed directly into the cistern. It was what Eren would consider a decent cell for a prisoner…just not for a pilot.

His captors had also been courteous to him.

He’d received a bar of soap to wash himself and his clothes with, and one bucket of water to do the deeds. He assumed it was once every few days. They had even given him another set of clothes; just a plain shirt and a pair of shorts. He’d received a toothbrush and toothpaste – but it was the most atrocious tasting toothpaste he’d ever tasted – and he’d even gotten a razor and a mirror. He idly thought, at the time that he’d received those things, that these people must consider him absolutely no threat to hand him what could be molded into weapons.

Surely, if he was motivated enough, he could craft something that could do some damage.

But there was a guard, armed with an assault rifle and a pistol, stationed right outside his cell twenty-four-seven.

He’d have to be a madman to even think of crafting a weapon.

By now, Eren knew his chances of escaping were nil. Even if he were to escape, he had no idea where he was, and where to go. The chances of recapture were higher than his chances of getting away, even in the vast landscape that he assumed he was in, and despite his drive to be his own hero, his instinct to survive begged him to comply.

His instinct to survive, and Mikasa’s voice. _Do not disrespect the people. Do not disrespect their culture._

_Well fuck you, they disrespected me as a human being! _Eren often thought. But he buried those thoughts. As hardheaded as he was, he knew his defiance would get him killed.

Sighing, Eren flushed the toilet after having relieved himself. He idly wondered if he were to piss less, would he feel less dehydrated.

He sat back on his bed and stared at his uniform that he’d laid out flat on the floor to dry, idly wondering what Levi would say about the color of the once pristine white shirt.

Levi, as simple a man as he could be, was incredibly pedantic. Whites had to be impeccably white, and Eren could never run a cycle of his work clothes without Levi getting a hold of them and bleaching them until they looked like they could be put on manikins. If he were to see the dull brown that had seeped into every fiber of what Eren deemed his favorite shirt, the man would absolutely lose his shit.

But not as much as he would over Eren’s facial hair.

As he stroked the straggly bits of what was threatening to become a beard, he laughed to himself. His previous job forbade the men from having any facial hair – apparently it looked unprofessional to have a beard, so said Pixis – so Eren religiously shaved the desperate bits of a moustache that was trying to cling to his upper lip. Come November when the men were allowed to grow their beards, Eren had sported pubescent fluff and scrubs, and Levi hated it. The mad said that blowjobs felt like sanding down an old car, and rimming felt like the wrath of every needle-wielding witch to have ever existed had come upon his asshole. Needless to say, Levi _hated_ Eren’s facial hair, and had often called himself “courteous” for returning the favor of shaving his own.

The day that Eren had gotten kidnapped – however long ago that was – Eren was due for a shave. He’d planned to shave that night. Now, however many days later, he was sitting with the scraggly attempts of a goatee and patchy hair on his chin. He wanted to shave it off, but the razor he’d been given looked worse for wear.

Eren sighed again. And again, and yet again. Since he’d been in one place, he realized how much he’d relied on his phone for entertainment. Browsing through Facebook or Instagram, playing games, or just messaging people. Now with no such entertainment, the hours just dragged on. He tried to sleep to pass time, but he found his sleep plagued with dreams of the day he was taken. Thoughts of Zeke kept creeping up on him in his sleep, no matter how hard he tried to dispel them in his waking hours.

As much as he hoped that there were people out there looking for him, a part of him could only imagine that he was nothing more than a headline: the sad dark side to Zeke’s survival story. By now, he had probably been on every major news network. Taunting those that loved and cared for him, and jarring old schoolmates into the pretense of having known him and been his friend. He could imagine the frenzy to free him, to call to arms a military movement that he knew would never come.

Because he took the job the damn military wouldn’t. Because it was cheaper and less politically implicating to send civilians to do the job, he was there.

And now he was here.

He’d be lying if he said he did not entirely regret his decision. At the time, he believed it was a well-informed decision. Yes, Levi had his objections – and damn good ones – but given all the facts, it wasn’t a terrible decision to make. Dozens of pilots had done the job before him, without incident. Dozens yet, would do it after him.

_But not you._

Was it an attitude of invulnerability that brought him here? Yes. It was. He would not deny that. Was he selfish? Of course. His career came first. He, as much as every young aviator in the world, knew that when presented with a good opportunity, one must take it. In this industry, rejecting generous offers not only denies you the chance of improvement far beyond your peers, but it gives you a bad name in a very, very small society.

Eren could afford neither.

So he took the chance. He made what he thought was an obviously good decision.

_See where that got you now._

Eren wondered what the price would be.

No pain, no gain.

This pain, however, was far past that damn mantra. He’d heard stories of journalists getting their throats slit – hell, getting damn beheaded – for just _being _here. For reporting on actualities! He couldn’t imagine the fate that would belie him if they were to learn that he, as a civilian pilot, was aiding military operations…operations that his own damn country wasn’t even a part of!

He worried that every day could be his last. He worried that at any given moment, these men could haul him out of his cell to be beheaded, slaughtered like livestock with no dignity, and for the whole damn world to see. The video of his execution streamed, and once taken off the internet, forever to live on the dark web for whoever was willing to pay the price.

If that were to happen, he couldn’t begin to imagine how the people that cared for him back home would feel. Mikasa, Levi, Armin…

Armin once told him that on the morning of his accident, when they were called, they feared for the worst. The plane was missing after a storm, and there was no information about its whereabouts or the state of its occupants. He’d heard that Mikasa did not handle it well, and that Armin had stepped up. He pacified her as best as he could, and held a level head throughout the ordeal. Now would be no different. In fact, it would be worse. Eren could only imagine that Mikasa was in an absolute unpacifiable state.

A lump formed in Eren’s throat that he quickly tried to swallow down. But with what, he dryly thought, as he swallowed and swallowed again against a throat threatening to collapse due to dehydration. He idly wondered if these men were purposefully keeping him underfed and dehydrated so that he wouldn’t be strong enough to attempt escape.

And through it all he wondered why the hell he did this. For the experience. For the money. For the hours.

Well, what was all of that worth now?

Yet another sigh slid through Eren’s lips, but as it did, something changed.

There was a bustle of activity outside that was different from the usual. Vehicles often came around, but this time, there was an urgency to it. The militants became attentive – even the man outside the cell seemed to be on guard, erect and meticulous as if someone important had arrived.

And someone of grave importance had.

Eren leaned forward on the bed at the back of his cell, curious about the hubbub but cautious not to react to it. He stared out of the cell, staring at the only sliver of daylight that dare penetrate the depths of his purgatory, until it was blacked out by the cleanest pair of black dress shoes that he’d seen since he’d left Eldia.

He waited with bated breath, hearing the echo of every purposeful step this person took. Heavy, deliberate, as if their mere presence should be demanding of the utmost respect. And when Eren saw his face, he knew that that was the case.

Neatly combed hair, sharp cheekbones that Eren would never forget until the day he died…he was confronted with the very man that questioned why Zeke had been shot that fateful day/

The man peered into the cell, bulging, lifeless eyes imploring Eren’s.

“Ready to do some business?” he asked in impeccable English and with a tone that made Eren’s very soul quake, and not a second later, another man unlocked the cell.

As unfamiliar as Eren was with the situation, he was no simpleton. He knew then and there that the stakes of his life were about to be bargained. He knew.

The negotiations for his release were about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> And thank you once again for the ongoing support.
> 
> Much love  
OS


	13. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I'd like to extend my best well wishes to everyone reading this. We are all affected by Covid19, some more than others, and I'd like to wish the best of luck and strength to every single one of you. This is a difficult and uncertain time, and a lot of us are suffering in many ways because of this, but together we can defeat it.
> 
> As they say, the virus doesn't move; we move the virus.
> 
> So please stay safe everyone, and stay strong. Let's hope that this will be over sooner rather than later.
> 
> Secondly, thanks for coming back to read. I know it's been a while, but well...the world has been thrown into absolute entropy. I do hope you enjoy the chapter. Please enjoy.

On that fateful day at the airfield – however long ago it might have been – Eren didn’t pick up any of the details he’d sworn he would if he were ever in that situation. Night after night at the bar, he’d spent his time drinking with men that had served in the infantry, air force and even special forces of their respective countries. He’d heard their tales, and he drank in as much information as he could – how something as simple as the camo pattern on a uniform could identify an affiliation; insignia for ranks were more or less similar throughout the world. Things that a soldier could identify that if they could contact home, they could say with some degree of certainty who was holding them.

But Eren was no soldier. He wasn’t trained to handle being abducted any further than a damn online course that told him to be compliant and not play the hero.

He had never had stress tests that forced him into a state of panic. The only time he’d ever been in a state where he thought he’d lose his life was that day at Shiganshina airfield, where he thought he was driving himself and Marco to their deaths.

This time, however, he was not driving. He was the passenger on a horrific ride that he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. And now that he had had some time to gather his thoughts, he found that nothing that he’d so boldy and so proudly proclaimed at the bar had proven to be true.

_How hard can it be to remember the color of someone’s shirt? _He’d asked himself several dozen times over, but could never provide an answer. More frustrating yet, the more he asked, the more it changed; maroon, no, green, no, red, no, tan…his mind had already begun inserting colors based on a preconceived notion that could best be described as discrimination.

_Fuck!_

Eren realized then and there that any effort to free him would have to come from the outside world, and with the little faith he had in his country’s government, he wasn’t hoping for much.

In the panic of having a loaded firearm to his head, Eren had forgotten everything he swore he would remember.

Except for one thing. Except for one man.

_Him._

At the time, the cessation of commotion and gunfire gave the young pilot hope that his ordeal was over. At that time, he’d naively grasped onto the slimmer of hope that whatever was happening to him was nothing more than a mistake, and that the men would move away. Of course, that was not the case, yet while the men didn’t leave, their aggression did. It gave Eren a moment of sobriety in his panic, a moment to take in his surroundings, and in that moment, he only noticed one thing. One man.

But one thing, he’d heard from those experienced in combat, was enough.

That man was one that Eren would never forget until his dying breath.

He would be able to paint this man’s face from memory: a slender face, eyes and cheeks sunken in with cheekbones prominent not due to genetics but seemingly due to illness. He carried himself with an air of authority – to what extent Eren could only guess at, given his power over the situation at the time – and his uniform exacerbated that. Unlike the rest, he wore a neatly pressed uniform, and his black shoes were shinier than Eren could ever even tried to keep shoes in a dusty environment such as this…which was saying something, with how pedantic he was with his footwear. In fact, he could see his own distorted reflection in the man’s impeccable shoes…no laces, and with a point that could kill a cockroach in a corner.

And this was the man seated before him now.

Eren may be no soldier, but he knew that the man seated before him held power that he could not comprehend; he knew that his absolute subservience would be his only absolution.

The man was seated behind a flimsy-looking metal foldout table with a laptop on it. Despite sitting on an equally flimsy metal foldout chair, the man looked comfortable with his one leg elegantly draped over the other. Even though his face was obscured by the shadows in the room, his features were some Eren would be able to recognize even if he were blind.

And so they sat, separated by but a table, the man eyeing Eren as if he were fresh meat at the morning market.

The man cleared his throat, drawing the jittery pilot’s attention. “Eren Yeager.”

His name was horribly mispronounced, something Eren would ordinarily leap to correct, but he thought better of it here. He held his tongue, eyes focused on the man’s chest, not daring to make eye contact.

“That is your name, correct?” the man continued. His accent was foreign, but it was not of Marley.

“Yes,” Eren meekly whispered.

"Yes, _what_?” the man hissed, inching forward in his sat in the shadows.

Pinching his eyes shut, Eren said the first thing that came to mind. “Yes, _sir_!”

A deep silence echoed through the room, and Eren could swear he could hear his own heart beating like the bass at a rave. It galloped away with such ferocity that he could feel it pushing against his sternum, and he idly remembered a proverb he’d once read that said a human heart only beat so many times in a lifetime. He was sure he’d expire soon, if that proved to be true.

“Trainable,” the man eventually said, his voice as deep as the silence that preceded it. It was unnaturally deep for a man of his slight stature. “Unlike some of you unorderly imbeciles.”

When Eren glanced up then, he saw the men around him visibly recoil. He could only liken it to one thing: a father scolding a young child for a fault the father knew but the child did not.

_Who the hell is this guy? _ Eren thought as his eyes eventually lifted to meet the man’s.

When emerald and hell met, the man grinned, but there was nothing sincere in the gesture. It was a grin filled with maniacal glee, with bloodlust so obvious it may very well have been bleeding from the man’s gums. It chilled Eren to the bone; to be face to face with a man, a demon, like this – a living, breathing human being, not a villainous character in an action movie – showed Eren that true evil did indeed exist.

Evil that commanded the men that had his life in their hands.

“I must apologize for your friend,” the man continued, sounding almost sincere. “I had no intention of harming either of you, but these _things_…” he spat the word as if it were venom on his tongue, dark eyes gazing across the room, making the men curl even tighter in on themselves. “They are notoriously incompetent. But…one must make do with what they have.”

A pregnant pause followed. The man lit a cigar…or rather, he gestured until one man brought him a cigar, another cut it, and a third lit it for him. He took several deep puffs of the thick cigar before turning his attention to Eren.

“It’s incredibly difficult to get a good cigar to these parts,” he said, smiling fondly. It made Eren’s stomach churn; his cavalier manner of speech suggested they were somewhere desirable, and not in a war-torn hell-hole. “But I am connected with every damn halfwit on this planet that dare call themselves worthy to a forgotten cause.”

For a moment, Eren frivolously wracked his mind to put a face to the name, but he quickly came up blank. It was in that moment that he wished more than ever that he had showed more interest in Levi’s talks about war and global politics.

“I’m General Calvi,” the man said, and even as a civilian, Eren knew that that was a high rank. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Yeager.”

Eren stared at the man through the thick smoke of the cigar, not in defiance, but sheerly dumbfounded at how cavalier this man was about the entire situation. It gave Eren the impression that he was in the hands of professionals…which could be a good thing. Or a very, very bad thing.

The man leaned forward then and said, “I do hope you understand that this is nothing personal.” He winked at Eren, and it made the young pilot clench his jaw from the urge to kick this guy right into the dirt.

One on one, Eren could take him. The man was much older than him and seemed frail. The sidearm barred, Eren knew that he would be able to take the man down; in a battle of fists, and wills, he would win.

But this was neither.

“It is simply business,” the General said, leaning back in his seat and gesturing with his arms as if he were showing off a kingdom.

Anger boiled up inside Eren as he wondered how in the name of all good things his _life_ was nothing more than a business transaction. He repeatedly clenched his jaw as he glared at the man, unable to contain the anger and hatred from bleeding into his eyes as he wished with everything within him that the man before him would drop dead.

It was for naught. The man was not fazed.

“I must admit that the fact that you are Eldian does sweeten the deal significantly,” he continued, his grin now sinister, revealing blackened teeth that could only be so from years of chewing that wretched _khat_. “Because Eldians fetch a very handsome price, in the business that I am in.”

Eren drew a deep breath and averted his eyes. He recalled an Eldian couple that was caught sailing offshore of Marley some time back…they were held for months, hell, years, before they were released. Their ransom demands were both in the millions of dollars.

It was then that Eren realized how dire his situation was, and if he could have terminated his life then and there, he would have.

He couldn’t imagine another few days here, let alone months, years! He would rather die now…if he could take one of the guns in the room, he would much rather turn it on himself than try and escape.

General Calvi’s deep chuckle interrupted Eren’s train of self-destructive thoughts, and when his eyes met with the man’s, the depths of hell stared right back at him. “Do you understand the situation, Mr. Yeager?”

_How the fuck is he being so polite? _Eren thought, biting his tongue before saying, “Yes, sir.”

The General raised a nonexistent brow. “And what is that situation, Mr. Yeager?”

_Your people fucking kidnapped me while I was minding my own business and doing my damn job and now I’m your little bitch for ransom!_

Eren opened his mouth to spew what his mind already had, but immediately pinched his lips, knowing better than to run his mouth in front of this man.

He drew in a deep breath. _Respect._

Not a damned soul in this room deserved it, but if he didn’t give them that, then his own life would be forfeit.

As much as he wanted to die, his instinct pushed him to comply.

And he hated it.

“I’m your prisoner,” Eren eventually said.

The General chuckled, seemingly genuinely amused. He then fixed his glare on Eren and said, “A prisoner is one caught from war. You are but a civilian, Mr. Yeager. You are nothing more than the price-tag I hang around your neck. Do you understand that?”

Eren’s gut sank. “Yes…sir…”

“You can be bloody lucky that you Eldians are worth as much as you are,” he said. “But then again…your government doesn’t negotiate with “terrorists”…so that begs the question, Mr. Yeager…who will pay for your life?”

_Levi! Levi will!_

And Eren had never before been more grateful to have been dating a man with as much wealth as Levi. Of course, he said nothing, and simply continued staring at the ground, feeling guilty for his own nationality.

“What is terrorism to you, Mr. Yeager?” the man asked. Before Eren could even begin to process the question, he continued. “They say it is the violent slaughter of innocents, the unrivaled oppression of free people, or the displacement of people from their homelands without provocation. To your government, those things define _terrorism_, but here in Marley, that is not the definition of terrorism, but the beginning of a new revival. This country has lived under the fist of the Far-East for too long.” He snuffed out his cigar on the sole of his shoe. “Is it so wrong for a people to simply want their own governance to return?”

Put in those words, it seemed simple. Relatable, even. All the people of Marley wanted was their own governance…whether that governance succeeded or failed was for the world to judge. And the world had judged the latter, hence the intervention. Eren wondered then if it would’ve been wrong of the world to turn a blind eye to Marley and let the Marleyans do what they wanted, how they wanted.

If only they had, none of this would ever have happened.

“So what you, Mr. Yeager, call terrorism, is what men like myself call _necessity_.” He leaned forward in his seat then, crossing his fingers with one another as he rested his elbows on his knees. “You youngsters don’t care about the implications of your actions…who you work for, or in your case, who you fly for.”

_A civilian Eldian company subcontracted to a Marleyan company to do the bidding that the Eldian airforce could not legally undertake._

“You come here, a _civilian_, and your aircraft eats the oxygen that my men are supposed to breathe!” The General’s voice escalated, making Eren quiver in his seat. “You come here with no fucking right to be here, yet here you are! And for that, we will have no mercy on you, Mr. Yeager, for you represent a much larger faction that will only send more in your stead.”

A long silence followed the outburst, and Eren could do nothing. Think nothing. Feel nothing. Because in this moment, there was nothing. If he were to think himself an example, it would be ambitious; right now, he was nothing. He was at the mercy of this man, in whatever way, shape or form the man decided to deal with him. It was so terrifying that it rendered Eren catatonic.

“Two would’ve been better than one,” the General mumbled.

Those words brought Eren’s consciousness to the surface again, and for the first time in days, he had a vivid flashback of Zeke being shot. The pained cry, the stumbling, and the blood pooling on the dusty apron. Oh, the blood.

“Where is he?” Eren asked unthinkingly.

The General raised a nonexistent brow.

Eren cleared his throat. “My uh…” As he was about to say _captain_, he remembered Zeke once stating the importance of not overvaluing others’ lives…or undervaluing your own. “My colleague that was injured. Where is he?”

The General snorted. “Not my problem. A ruined product isn’t worth much, now is it?”

It was obvious that the man would say nothing more on the matter, so Eren dared not ask anything else. He simply nodded, feigning satisfaction with the information he was given, hoping that Zeke wasn’t killed. Eren could only hope that a man as “professional” as General Calvi wouldn’t senselessly kill an innocent civilian.

A fool’s hope, but hope nonetheless.

The General shifted then, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward on the table, drawing Eren’s attention to the laptop. He fidgeted some; long, thin fingers tracing the trackpad and tapping it now and then, before his gaze lifted from the screen to fix on Eren.

“I suppose you know what happens next.”

Eren snidely wanted to remark that this was his first kidnapping so he would appreciate a tutorial, but he knew that the General would think ill of his humor. Instead, he simply nodded, trying to keep his eyes off the machine as the General’s fingers once again started rapping at the keyboard.

“Mr. Yeager,” he suddenly said, typing ceasing. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

One of the cardinal rules in any abduction was to not become familiar with the kidnappers, as Stockholm Syndrome was easier to fall into than anyone would admit. However, this was different – this man didn’t want any familiarity with him and could probably not care for who or what Eren was other than a product. Yet despite that, Eren found himself unable to answer.

After a few seconds of silence, the General frowned at Eren and said, “Have you suddenly become a mute?”

Hearing the underlying threat in the man’s voice prompted Eren to speak.

“No!” Eren quickly said, laughing awkwardly afterwards. He idly chided himself that there was nothing funny about this situation. “I uh…I just don’t know what to say.”

“How old are you?” the General asked without missing a beat.

“Twenty-four,” Eren said quietly.

“Ah, so you are still a wet-eared brat,” he grinned, raising that godawful hairless brow again. “Just like all the other young, idealistic cunts who ravage this land doing the bidding of old war dogs who wish to rape a barren country and impregnate it with outdated ideologies.”

Eren was left dumbfounded. He’d hardly understood a word that the man had said, but it was spoken with such malice that even a simpleton would understand that this man had no desire or patience for any foreign intervention in this country. The young pilot simply nodded, unequivocally agreeing with the General’s words.

“But, Mr. Yeager, you are nor a soldier nor an idealist,” the man continued, and when his eyes met Eren’s, the young man simply shook his head. “You are only a pilot.”

_Only a pilot. A pilot. Nothing. You don’t belong here. You should never have come here in the first place. Just like Levi said._

“Yes sir,” Eren said in a voice so soft that he could barely even hear himself.

“Such a prestigious career,” the General said, almost mockingly, as he turned the laptop towards Eren.

The familiar Skype icon was an absolute godsent gift, and in that moment, Eren didn’t care who would be on the other end of the call, as long as it was a familiar face. However, his attention was drawn from the laptop when the General spoke again.

“Which begs the question…why are you in Marley?”

Upon hearing those words, Eren was confronted with the dozens of reasons he’d given Levi, Armin, Mikasa…and others. In retrospect, it all seemed futile, stupid even, but he’d come here because of those reasons, and he could not deny them. Those were the reasons that made him take this job, and ultimately get into this situation.

Hours, experience, fun.

Oh how he hated his juvenile mind in that moment.

Eren frowned. He was not going to give this man the same reasons he gave those that he loved; in his mind, this animal wasn’t worth his breath. So the young pilot steeled himself and forced his eyes to meet those of the devil incarnate, clenching his jaw as a chill ran down his spine.

This man would get the most simplified answer Eren could give, as a pilot.

“I wanted a fun job,” Eren said.

Without missing a beat, the General clicked the “call” button and asked, “And are you having fun, Mr. Yeager?””

* * *

It had been ten days.

Ten agonizing days where no one heard a word of Eren’s wellbeing. In the interim, Zeke had been treated on site and stabilized, and had since been sent home to act in his position as security liaison, which he was doing with frightening efficiency.

Given eyewitness accounts and recent movements in the area, Zeke had already ascertained who had attacked them and taken Eren. He’d liaised with his contacts in the field and together the groups had already put together a scenario, and thus a plan. Then, Zeke had consulted the Reeves Company, a family owned business that had been running for decades, that specialized in cases of civilians, particularly Eldians, being kidnapped for ransom in combat areas around the world. No one had more experience in the matter than them.

On the day of the expected call, they had all convened at Titan’s offices, in the boardroom. The date was set with nothing more than an SMS giving a Skype name to add and a time that the call would be placed. But they were ready.

Zeke had already briefed those involved on the expected trajectory of the first call, and how they were to act and react, and what would likely happen thereafter…after all, this was the first time Titan had found themselves in this situation. The representatives of Reeves, a father-son team, reiterated Zeke’s ideals and had subsequently taken charge of the situation.

Much to Rico’s ire.

She did not like Dimo Reeves one bit. He didn’t seem like the type of man that one would liken to an organization that specialized in hostage release. He was short and stout, his pudgy physique evidence of years of indulgence and no interest in exercise whatsoever. His balding head of greying brunet hair had only a horseshoe ring left, with the bare skin on top sporting an impressive shine. The hair on his lip and chin was surprisingly neatly trimmed, but his dark eyes were wild and scathing, their leering gaze often lingering on Rico with much more interest than was courteous.

In contrast to his father, Flegel had gentler eyes. It was obvious that he had not seen the horrors his father had, and one could only imagine that the years would steal that gentle edge that the young man’s eyes held. He was taller than his father, but also a far-cry from being fit, and he still had a head full of thick, gingerbread-brown hair slicked back in what appeared to be an attempt at a short mullet.

An hour before the call, they convened in the conference room. Dimo, Flegel, Zeke, Rico, Erwin, and a few other personnel that were considered essential to the case. The laptop was set up, with a projector in place for the inevitable.

And so they waited.

“When they call, they are going to want to speak to a representative of Titan,” Dimo said. His pudgy fingers twirled a pen around with surprising dexterity as his eyes wandered throughout the room. “They will want to speak to the man in charge.” He glanced at Rico and smirked condescendingly. “Or woman, in this instance. Though it’s best they do not know that.” He turned his attention to Zeke. “It would be better if you played that role.”

Rico tensed. Being a female CEO did not come without its challenges, and while people marveled at her from afar, within the industry she often bumped heads with men who believed such a prestigious corporate position was not for a woman. The thick-skinned Rico had clawed her way to the top and had fought much harder than her male counterparts, battling the stigma of sleeping her way to the top. Despite her hardships, she had learnt to fight hard and fight smart, and her time with Levi had given her the cut-throat attitude that she needed to traverse a man’s world. That man had equipped her with the tools to reach the position of CEO at a surprisingly young age, and she regretted not thanking him for it.

“Nothing personal, lady,” Dimo continued, seemingly satisfied with her reaction. “But the Marleyans don’t take kindly to women, as I’m sure you know.”

While what he said was true – and try as she may, Rico could not deny it – the way in which he said it held a misogynistic tone, and Rico knew then and there what kind of a man Dimo was. Marley’s stance on women’s rights, or the blatant lack thereof, was just an opportunity for this man to express his true feelings on women in power…on women in general.

As she had always done, Rico took it in her stride. Even though she was burning internally with the fury of goddesses bygone, she would not give this man the satisfaction of knowing he had irked her. The mere fact that she had tensed at his words bothered her, and so Rico tried harder to swallow the bile of insults and let the man speak.

“I will play the mediator,” Dimo said, leaving no room for negotiation.

Just as Zeke was about to intervene, Flegel piped up, neatening a stack of papers on the table in front of him in a fashion that seemed oddly rehearsed.

“The first thing they will demand is a large sum of money for Eren’s safe return,” he said, and Rico had to resist the urge of rolling her eyes at the obvious. He continued, saying, “They will demand a ridiculous amount…somewhere in the millions. They are not oblivious to the value that Eldian lives hold.”

Murmurs erupted in the room, people speaking amongst their own of the Eldian couple that had been kidnapped for ransom…and released upon a successful negotiation.

As if the chatter didn’t bother him, Flegel continued, “The highest recorded demand from Al-Mar was eighteen-million Eldian dollars.” The murmurs quietened down. “That was for one ‘Tsubaki’.” He shuffled through his papers and produced an image of a young Eldian woman. “She was only eighteen. They held her for thirteen months.”

Rico knew the story, as did everyone else. It was headline news for months. She cringed at what an eighteen year old woman would endure at the hands of extremists for eighteen months, but she did not show it.

Flegel smirked lazily. “Oh yeah. Not a pretty sight when she came home, though.”

And just like that, all innocence that his boyish face held vanished. He was not as impervious to the cruelties of the world as Rico had thought, nor had he yet to go through the right of passage his father had gone through to become an insensitive, misogynistic prick. Flegel was well on his way, if not already there, but his true nature was hidden behind his boyish façade.

Shuffling his papers again – and Rico could swear it was rehearsed and she wanted to grab the stack and roll it up and shove it down his throat – Flegel produced a photograph of a young man. He said, “Her partner, Murakumo, was less lucky. He was held for twenty-eight months, and when he came home, he was an absolute mess. His ransom was ten million.”

“Twenty-eight months…” Rico repeated. “That’s nearly three years.”

“Define absolute mess,” Zeke said, and just like that, Rico’s words vanished into thin air.

It was Dimo that spoke, the glint in his eye borderline psychopathic. “Oh, they fucked him up good.” He glanced at Rico and added, “Pardon my language, miss.” He turned his attention back to Zeke. “They refused to believe that he wasn’t associated with any enemy or government groups and they tortured him for months trying to get him to confess.”

“Jesus…” Rico said, clenching her jaw.

“Not in those lands,” Dimo retorted without even looking at her. “Eventually they reckoned he was no good and sold him off.”

“In the beginning, his price was similar to Tsubaki’s,” Flegel said. “But as he got passed down the chain, the price lessened.”

“The chain?” Rico asked.

Dimo turned to her, seemingly exhausted by the mere fact that he had to answer her. “The chain of negotiation, as we _experts_ call it.” Rico wanted to flip him the bird.

“The kidnappers are merely the pawns,” Flegel continued. “The hostages get passed onto keepers, and they will make the initial demands. It’s usually ridiculously high, but the aim is to get negotiations going with the victim’s home state. The victim will get sold to the next faction, who will make their demand, and so it will go on until the guy at the bottom of the chain will accept scrap for the victim just to pay the costs of having bought the guy.”

It was then that Erwin spoke up for the first time. “So the further along this chain of negotiation the victim goes, the lower the ransom.”

Dimo slapped the desk with his pudgy hand and exclaimed, much too excitedly, “Exactly!”

His excitement didn’t just irk Rico, but Erwin as well. The man said nothing, glancing around the room seeking a lead in the conversation.

Zeke said, “You can’t give into their demands immediately.”

“Of course not,” Erwin said. “That would set the president that our country is open to terrorist negotiations, which it is not.”

“I like you,” Dimo said, pointing that pudgy finger at Erwin as he smirked. It made Rico’s gut roll, but she also wondered idly what Dimo would have said if she were the one to say those exact words. “And they know they aren’t negotiating with the government, but rather with a private agency. And that, Mr. Smith, gives them endless patience. Hence our poor friend err…what’s his name…”

“Murakumo,” Flegel mumbled,

“Yes!” Dimo said. He sat back in his chair, stroking his chin. “They know they _will _get money…it’s just a matter of how much.”

It was only then that Erwin saw the full scope of the situation. Reeves Company could guarantee the safe release of a hostage, but they would negotiate down to the lowest price…which meant that said hostage would have to be passed down this apparent chain of negotiation to a point where the company was willing to pay out. Being an insurance company, they obviously wanted to pay the minimum, and that did not sit well with Erwin.

When his eyes met with Rico’s, he could see that she shared his thoughts.

In the moment that their eyes met, they did not just share a similar concern. Erwin could sense Rico’s frustration and empathized with it, and while he knew that she was not a woman to be spoken for, he elected himself to speak on her behalf…because he knew, as she did, if these words came out of her mouth, Dimo would all but disregard them.

“So, what you want to do is play the chain of negotiation to see how low you can get the ransom,” Erwin said, eyes fixed on Dimo, “but still keep him alive?”

Dimo grinned. “They wouldn’t kill him even if they dropped him down to one hundred thousand. Money is money, my friend.”

Rico could not contain herself any longer, and she launched herself from her seat as she slapped a hand to the table. “Money is not money! This is my pilot! You will not pawn him off to the lowest bidder just so that you can save your millions, Mr. Reeves!” She spat the name like it was venom on her tongue. “Titan pays you thousands of dollars a month to insure their pilots and I am sure that after more than a decade of loyal, non-return installments, you can afford to pick out of your fucking greasy pocket to get my pilot home!”

A loud murmur erupted in the room at Rico’s outburst and Zeke desperately tried to contain the crowd as Rico and Dimo glared at each other – Rico with the fury of a woman on the path to hell and Dimo with nothing more than mild amusement. His nonchalance sickened Rico, and if she could, she would take the pen that his pudgy fingers had been toying with and shove it through his left temple.

“I think you ought to calm down, miss,” Dimo said, completely unfazed.

Rico wanted to explode.

“Let’s just calm down and assess the situation,” Zeke said.

Rico snapped at Zeke. “Assess what? I have a good-for-nothing insurance company that won’t pay for _my _fucking pilot’s release and I’m supposed to just grin and bear this so-called ‘chain of negotiation’?”

“It’s with purpo…” Zeke started, but Dimo cut him off.

“Lady, we’ve been in this business longer than you’ve been a woman so let us handle it.”

And that was when Rico was ready to drive that pen into Dimo’s skull, but Erwin spoke before she could act or speak.

“What is your plan?”

“Drop the price. Then we pay.” Dimo was so confident and so nonchalant that a person would be hard-pressed to believe he was dealing with human lives.

And it had Rico boiling to her core…but she maintained the best composure she could. She held her tongue, physically biting it at the back of her mouth, imploring someone else to speak.

Erwin said, “So your plan is to dangle the carrot in front of the rabbit until it bites?”

“Exactly,” Dimo said, his maniacal glee sickening to all in the room.

Rico wondered just what kind of a monster this man had to be to be able to deal with human lives as nothing more than business transactions. But then again, his “clients” saw human lives as even less.

“Seems like a bit of a gamble,” Zeke said,

Flegel once again shuffled his papers, his cue for everyone to turn their attention to him. “It isn’t as much of a gamble as you assume.” When everyone’s attention was on him, he continued, producing a graph from his documentation. “We have accurate recordings of all kidnappings in the region for the last five years. They all follow the exact same trajectory.”

“So you can track Eren down?” Erwin asked.

“No,” Dimo answered, and Flegel further explained. “The general trajectory is the same but the actual factions and locations change. We had established the best point of actual release at the fourth or fifth containment.”

Rico sighed. “Meaning Eren has to get handed down four or five times before you are willing to pay?”

Dimo chuckled. “Welcome to the game, lady.”

“This isn’t a game!” she hissed, but he was unfazed by her aggression.

“Rico…” Erwin quietly cautioned, but she ignored him.

“This is my company, my pilot! We pay you to sort this shit out, not to play some game based on your fucking studies of kidnapping trajectories!”

Dimo leaned forward in his seat, hackles raised as he said, “And why did you hire us, hmm? Because we are the best! And how did we become the best?” Dimo slapped his hand repeatedly on Flegel’s papers. “Because of this! Eldia does not negotiate with terrorists but we do, and we do it in the best way that we know how! So leave it to the professional, lady, and we will get your bloody pilot back home alive.”

A tense moment of silence followed where Rico and Dimo glared at each other, Rico fueled with the hate of being undermined and Dimo angered by being questioned in his profession.

Erwin broke the silence. “Maybe we need a moment…”

Flegel interrupted, “We have five minutes to the call. A moment is not available.” He sounded like a robot as he said that, completely detached from the situation. “My father and I will handle the negotiations, and that is final.”

Even though Zeke was nothing more than an ex-soldier-turned-pilot, he was sensitive enough to the situation to understand where both Titan and Reeves were coming from. Both companies wanted what was best for them, but their interests weren’t being met…or at the very least, not expressed. “Explain it simply, Mr. Reeves. Make us understand.”

Dimo and flegel shared a look that did not go unnoticed by Erwin, but before he could say a word, Flegel had already shuffled his papers and neatened the stack. “We will pay after Eren’s second hand-down.”

“Why second?” Rico immediately asked.

“Because that is the best trajectory,” Dimo hissed.

In that moment, there was no misogyny or blatant disregard for Rico…Dimo had acted defensively and both Zeke and Erwin had immediately noticed it. The two glanced at each other, and Erwin nodded to Zeke to speak.

“Why two, specifically?”

“Finances,” Dimo immediately answered.

“Bull shit!” Rico cried out. “If you wanted to save money, as you skimping, lying pigs obviously want to, you’d push for more!”

Before anyone could respond, Erwin spoke, voice ever-calm and fingers interlaced as he leaned on the table and fixed Flegel with a hard glare. “I concur with Rico. Why two, specifically?”

Flegel, subjected to the intensity of Erwin’s gaze, quickly wavered. He looked around, eyes desperately trying to subtly catch his father’s in a quiet bid for assistance.

After a minute of harrowing silence, Dimo let out a long breath. “Show them, son.”

Flegel sorted through his papers and produced a pixilated image of a young woman. She had blond hair and blue eyes that were striking even given the horrible quality of the picture. She could not be a day over eighteen.

“This is Historia Reiss,” Dimo said. “She was taken six weeks ago about seventy clicks north of where Eren was taken. Our trajectories place them in the same hands in the near future…possibly two to three handovers.”

Erwin nodded. The businessman in him couldn’t deny the genius of the situation, but as Eren’s friend, it seemed unfathomable.

“I understand,” Erwin said. He sighed, and everyone in the room held their breaths as Erwin gathered his thoughts.

Erwin was not what people would consider inherently empathetic. He was tactical and objective, qualities that were needed for him to thrive in his line of work, qualities that he had honed over the years. So while he understood that the killing of two birds with one stone in this situation wasn’t only for business benefit, but also for survivability, his instinct to protect his friend overrode his empathy for a complete stranger…even a young woman. Erwin simply did not want Eren to be held for a minute longer than absolutely needed, and that was why he decided to play his ace.

“If you give me a price on Eren today,” Erwin said, speaking slowly as he held Dimo’s gaze, “it will be paid before the call ends.”

Flegel chuckled. “By who?”

“Eren’s partner,” Rico piped up, and all eyes fell on her. Before the call, Zeke had specifically instructed her not to mention Eren’s wealthy partner. However, now that Erwin had mentioned it, that briefing was no longer valid.

And Zeke was obviously livid, glaring at Erwin with the wrath of demon wronged.

“Eren’s partner is Levi Ackerman, owner of Colossus," Rico continued.

Dimo laughed. He threw himself back in his chair and let out howling laughter that was so misplaced in the situation that it was criminal. Even his own son looked at him questioningly, yet everyone stayed silent…just to hear what the hell he found so amusing.

“Eren’s a faggot?” he eventually wheezed, the mere statement making Erwin cringe in anger and Rico re-readying that pen. “That is golden! Better hope them Al-Mar don’t figure that out because they burn fags alive there!”

“Fuck you,” Rico hissed.

Dimo chuckled. “Business, lady.”

Just as Rico was about to retort, Erwin interjected. “A price. That’s it. Levi will pay.”

Flegel was about to answer but his father cut in, silencing his son with nothing more than a gesture. “Humor me, Mr. Smith…” Erwin fixed his attention on the man, swearing to bite back any insult. “If Levi pays for Eren, what do Al-Mar think?”

“The hostage was paid for and released,” Erwin answered without missing a beat,

Dimo grinned, stroking his chin. Erwin didn’t like it. Rico liked it less.

“But the Eldian government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists,” Dimo said.

“Private release,” Erwin quickly retorted..

“Do you know how many Colossus employees work around the world, Mr. Smith?” Dimo asked, one brow raised. “In countries much less stable than Marley.”

“Thousands,” Rico answered.

Dimo paid her no mind and continued. “Now just imagine they know it was a private release…and believe me they will…what of those people?”

A pregnant silence befell the room that Dimo seemed to revel in; he even winked at Flegel, as if to say that this is what he wanted.

When no on spoke, he said, “If Mr. Ackerman pays this as a private release, then every single Colossus employee around the world will become a target because hey…Colossus pays…”

And as much as Erwin wanted to deny it, Dimo made a valid point. If they approached this independently, Colossus employees worldwide would be targeted. Not only would that bring far-reaching trauma to undeserving people, but that would bankrupt the corporation.

However, he knew that if Levi were here, he would say fuck it all and pay. Nothing came between him and Eren, but Erwin knew that this would be a decision that his friend would regret.

He would never tell Levi this, but he agreed. He sighed and said, “Two hand downs?”

“Three, at the most,” Dimo said, grinning smugly, clearly chuffed at having gotten his way.

Erwin, Rico and Zeke shared a look, and even though the situation was far from ideal, it was as good as it was going to get. It was Erwin who ultimately gave Dimo the go-ahead, and all he could do was hope that he would not live to regret this decision.

Barely a second later, the Skype call came through.

"Let's rock 'n roll, boys," Dimo said, winking at Flegel before clicking to answer the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read! Remember that comments are always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> With the global lockdown, I do intend to write more but I will admit that motivation is quite low given the circumstances. I will try my best to work hard through this time, as I know very well that literary escape is very high on the menu for a lot of us these days.
> 
> Let's stay strong together.
> 
> Love you guys  
OS


	14. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I actually thought I'd posted this already. For the first time, the delay was truly a mistake!
> 
> I hope all of you are keeping safe during this pandemic! For those of you in lockdown, I hope you're taking care of yourself and your mental health.
> 
> On my side, my partner and I are fostering two kittens that we would like to adopt. They're keeping us busy as all hell...which is why I only realized now that I hadn't posted. I don't think I'd switched my laptop on in nearly a couple of weeks before this morning!
> 
> Anyway, just a warning: THIS CHAPTER IS HEAVY. It's dark and very emotional so please, if you're not having a good day, maybe hold off on this one till you are. This chapter was a heavy one for me to write but I am very pleased with how it came out...in other words, it will tug at the emotions of you, my dearest readers, because I threw all of myself into this one.
> 
> Nevertheless, please enjoy.

_“Time, like an ever-rolling stream,  
Bears all its sons away;  
They fly forgotten, as a dream  
Dies at the opening day.”  
**Isaac Watts**_

Time can humble the most powerful of men, for laden in the passage of time is the indisputable truth of the one fate no living thing can escape – death.

As the days passed, turning to weeks and eventually to months, Levi had learnt the painful reality of his absolute insignificant in the world. He had learnt that despite his wealth and fame, the grandeur of his power was nothing more than an illusion built on humanity’s depraved yet incessant need for self-destruction. Ironically, it was that very need that stripped him of the power he thought he had; that brought him down to the dust amongst the peasants and cackled in his face as he realized that his name, usually synonymous with infinite power and wealth, was nothing more than a forgotten language on the tongues of those who lived and breathed violence.

Levi Ackerman meant nothing. Colossus, less so.

The powerlessness had Levi teetering on the brink of insanity since he’d learnt that he couldn’t throw his money around to solve this problem. He’d been cautioned against trying, and when he persisted, Dimo Reeves forbade him from nearing the negotiation table again. Levi thought it was a bluff, but after having security escort him off Titan’s property thrice, he’d learnt that he truly was not welcome around the table. Not only that, but he was forbidden from receiving any news or updates that were not considered critical…and to Dimo and Flegel Reeves, critical meant one piece of information – whether Eren was dead or alive.

And the fact that Dimo was a belligerent homophobe didn’t help – he went out of his way to keep Levi out of the loop, and if it hadn’t been for Erwin’s liaison, Levi wouldn’t have heard a single thing pertaining to the negotiations.

Dimo had even gone so far as to say that he didn’t care if _the Marleyans killed the damn faggot – at least that’s one less poof in the world to worry about._

Those words were what got Levi banned from negotiations in the first place. Those were the words that provoked the man to attack that pudgy fucker, and had Levi had a moment longer before Zeke intervened, he would have planted the heel of his shoe in the man’s fat face.

_If it weren’t for my contractual obligation, and the fat fucking pay cheque Titan is gonna cut me, I wouldn’t give a shit if they killed that little fruit and left him to rot in Marley, _Dimo had said, glaring Levi in the eye, _so don’t make me pull out. I can cut this loss._

And so Levi was left with his tail between his legs, threatened into absolute submission by the man that held the only key to bringing Eren home…and who obviously didn’t care for the boy further than his next pay cheque. As much as Levi yearned to fight back, as much as he hated the foul, acidic burn of a powerlessness he swore he’d never succumb to again, he knew that Dimo was not a man who bluffed.

As nauseating as the truth may be, Levi knew that Dimo was the man in charge, and there was nothing anybody could do to challenge that.

And oh, did that bastard get off on his position of power.

Levi swore that as soon as Eren was safe in Eldia, he would end Dimo. He’d spent brooding over it, but even in his darkest moments of dreaming up his perfect revenge, Levi knew that if he were to attack Reeves Company, hundreds of innocent people would be left without a job, and possibly put out onto the street. As glorious as it would be to see Dimo Reeves go under, Levi was not willing to involve innocents.

He would settle for fucking the man up. Perhaps if he told Eren what the man had said, Eren would join him.

The thought of watching Eren beat that disgusting man brought a smile to Levi’s face more times than he cared to admit.

But until then, Levi’s hands were tied. With the Eldian government outright refusing to negotiate with terrorists, despite Levi offering to pay the ransom himself, Levi was in the unfortunate position of having to rely on that homophobic pig to bring his Eren back home safely. And all attempts at funding the ransom through Reeves had been rejected, which only further aggravated Levi; why wouldn’t they take the money; were they stalling the negotiations; what weren’t they telling him?

Erwin swore that he’d told Levi everything, but Levi was no simpleton. There was something he was not being told, and if a threat on his life wouldn’t get Erwin to talk, then it had to be something dark.

And so time crawled by. One week became two, two weeks became four. One month became two, three, and eventually six.

Six months.

One hundred and seventy-five days, to be exact.

The time that had passed had not been kind to the man.

Within weeks of Eren’s disappearance, Levi had spiraled into an anxiety-fueled depression that had him seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle every night. The soothing kiss of alcohol did little to numb the rampant thoughts of the vile abuses Eren was likely suffering at the hands of his sadistic captors, which none too soon had Levi turning to prescription drugs in a desperate bid to find the sweet serenity of a quiet mind. Most nights he couldn’t recall ever falling asleep. The combination of drugs and alcohol would drag him under, and more often than not, Levi would wake on a chair or a couch, and not in his bed.

_Their _bed.

Perhaps he had been avoiding it for fear that the chasm left behind by his lover’s absence would swallow what little sanity he dared hold onto. Whenever he rolled over and was met with cold nothingness, he would be torn from his sleep, and no amount of drugs or liquor could protect him from the sheer panic that would follow.

He would scream. It would be bloodcurdling, the sound so grating that it would even make his own toes curl in as he recoiled from the terrifying cry. His lungs would spasm, his throat collapse, and his body would begin to writhe as if possessed as it fought to find air; the battle would see him on the floor, seizing as he whimpered and choked, clawing at his own skin as he desperately tried to open up some holes just to breathe!

If he woke in the middle of the night and was cognitive enough to move, he would swallow more pills with liquor. Some nights he would be down more than two bottles, along with enough tranquilizers to kill a man. He would take the pills by the handful, not stopping until the panic ceased, until his mind was still.

Some nights he wished he could still his mind forever. In fact, he was surprised that he had not.

On more occasions than he cared to count, Levi would simply stare at himself in the mirror in the mornings, amazed that had lived through the night.

_Was the universe really so cruel that it would force a man to suffer, no matter how hard he tried to end it?_

He would stare at himself, not recognizing the man in the mirror. The dilapidated, tortured husk of a man that had once called himself Levi Ackerman.

Levi’s vivacious endeavors with the bottle and the pills saw his appetite dwindle until the man barely ate at all. It could have been the constant buzz of alcohol or the numbness brought on by those delightful pills, or the fact that the sheer amount of liquid that he was putting into his stomach daily saw to it that he couldn’t put much else in his body. Maybe he didn’t want to eat because every time he saw food, he thought of Eren and that damn brat’s borderline-obsession with all things “delicious and nutritious”. Levi hadn’t touched a single pot or pan since Eren’s disappearance, and even simply looking at the stove brought to the forefront of his mind painfully detailed recollections of Eren’s enthusiasm upon finding a new recipe.

Soon, Levi simply no longer cared to feed himself. Even though he was watching himself waste away day by day, he didn’t care. Despite the man in the mirror morphing into a creature of the underworld, Levi made no effort to stop it.

His skin had become pallid, sickly. Dark rings had formed under his eyes, the bags that held them so deep and heavy that they seemed as if they would never go away; not even a century’s slumber would alleviate the creature from the signs of exhaustion that it wore proudly like a tattoo. The pale skin on his face was spotted from scabs that he’d incessantly picked at, scabs that had formed due to recurring pimples that just never seemed to let up, no matter how many times he tore them from his flesh.

For the first time in his life, Levi looked his age. No, he looked older. He looked horrible, _ugly_…but he did not care.

Why would he care? The only person he wanted to want him wasn’t there.

None too soon, Levi had embodied the definition of a functional alcoholic. He threw himself into his work, dedicating his every waking moment to Colossus. Even though not one of those moments held sobriety, Levi was frighteningly efficient and as ruthless as ever. People hardly ever saw him, but their working conditions never changed, so they never questioned it. Even Petra, who had often tried to initiate some form of conversation with Levi, eventually backed away when she realized he was barely present in his own mind.

Slaving away, barely eating, and a constant ravenous devouring of alcohol and prescription drugs soon saw Levi burning out. He was struggling to concentrate, struggling to stay awake…he’d fallen asleep behind the wheel of his car one night on his way home from the office and was jolted awake by the impact with a road barrier. As much as he wanted the pain to cease, he did not want to lose his life – not in such a manner.

His solution?

Cocaine.

It started off as innocently as such an addiction possibly could – he simply wanted a kick that no amount of caffeine could possibly give him. At first, he did it for mental vitality, to stay awake and alert not only so that he could efficiently execute his tasks as the CEO of Colossus, but also so that he wouldn’t inadvertently place himself in harm’s way.

Levi had found the perfect balance between bringing himself to the brink of a coma every night and functioning as the cut-throat head of one of the world’s largest weapons manufacturing companies during the day. It was almost poetic.

Until the day communication between the kidnappers and Reeves suddenly stopped.

When Levi learnt that not only had negotiations reached a stalemate, but that the kidnappers had seemingly disappeared and could not be contacted via any channels previously used, the man lost it. That was the night he was admitted to hospital, having inadvertently overdosed on both alcohol and tranquilizers.

Medical professionals wanted to commit him, but he refused. He maintained it was an accident and that he wasn’t suicidal.

Yet.

Just as long as he could keep his mind numb, he would be fine. If he could just stop himself from constantly wondering if Eren was even still alive, he would be able to function.

To achieve that, he had doubled his numbing efforts – more alcohol, more pills. To counter that, he used more cocaine. More than he should, if there was ever an ethical recommended daily amount.

He knew that he was killing himself, but he didn’t care. His concoction of drugs and liquor kept his demons at bay, and it kept him of sound enough mind to work hard enough that his thoughts were silenced even as sobriety threatened to peak through his self-imposed stupor. His vices held him together by a precarious thread, and he would continue to indulge until the day Eren came home…or those vices failed him.

It was the latter.

The precarious thread holding him together simply snapped. One day, on the one hundredth and seventy fifth day, his vices failed, and Levi Ackerman fell apart.

How did he know the exact number of days? An A-1 wall-planner mounted right beside the TV that, a calendar he’d bought when negotiations had begun, his optimism driving him to count down the days until he could be reunited with his love.

Now the damn calendar mocked him, each day that passed crossed out with a red marker, the streaks becoming thicker and darker as the days went on. What was once the jovial flick of a wrist in a countdown that he was sure would be over in the blink of an eye had become the hateful engraving of pain, longing and resentment. Each day that passed was dutifully marked, and now that he looked at a calendar that had nearly as many days crossed out in red as it had clear, he found the thing deplorable. Yet the masochist couldn’t bring himself to tear it down, naïvely hoping that each day that he marked off would be the last.

And so he moved to marked off yet another day, today, the one hundred and seventy fifth day since Eren had been taken, but he never did. He stared at the block, pen in hand, before simply dropping the pen and stumbling backwards to fall onto the couch that afforded him the best, unobstructed view of the damn calendar.

Levi filled his crystal tumbler to the brim with a whiskey best appreciated when sober, and absentmindedly sipped at it as he stared at the abomination on his wall.

So many days had passed that the year was coming to an end. While it felt like a hundred lifetimes had achingly crawled by, it somehow still felt like just yesterday that he and Eren had shared their last kiss at the airport. If he closed his eyes and held his breath, Levi could still smell the unmistakable woodland scent that clung to Eren’s bronzed skin, and if he allowed himself to further fall into the illusion, he could imagine a pressure against his lips that felt like the soft press of Eren’s against his own.

If he’d known then that that kiss would be their last, he would’ve kissed Eren harder, held on a little longer. Hell, who was he kidding? If he had known then what he knew now, he would have rather paralyzed his lover than let Eren board the plane that day.

_Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, _Levi thought sourly before knocking back the rest of the whiskey in his glass. He quickly refilled it, pinching his eyes shut tightly as he fought the bittersweet memory of his lover’s touch.

Levi sighed.

He didn’t think he’d have to spend his birthday alone. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have cared for that fact. Growing up, his birthday had always been something of a nonevent – not only was the specialness of the day for a child ruined by the fact that everyone else was also getting presents, but he could never had parties inviting his classmates or neighborhood friends to his house for cake and song. Everyone was always away for the holidays. Or he was away with his family.

He was only six years old when the idea of celebrating his birthday had lost its allure, and along with it, his innocent childhood enthusiasm seemed to have died as well.

By the time he was ten years old, Levi wanted nothing to do with his birthday or with Christmas. He lashed out at his family for trying to celebrate either, and would spend the dreaded day alone in his room, as far away from any festivities as a child could. By the time he was fourteen, his festering disease had spread around the household, and from then, even the spirit of Christmas had been sapped from the Ackermans.

Never again did he think he would have to celebrate either day. In his adulthood, his friends respected that, and their celebration was, as Hange so eloquently put it, _just an excuse to feast and give each other menial shit._ Levi accepted it, and had no qualms against it, but that all changed when that bright-eyed brat came into his life.

Eren refused to ignore Levi’s birthday. He refused not to celebrate Christmas.

_I didn’t really get to do this growing up, and I always wanted to have a big family Christmas and cool birthday parties,_ Eren once explained. After that, Levi never complained about the brat’s enthusiasm ever again.

Levi almost cracked a smile at how ridiculously enthusiastic Eren got.

But what made the man’s smile widen was the way in which Eren was able to clearly distinguish between Levi’s birthday and Christmas – Levi had never said it in as many words, but that simple act of separation was enough to have the man thoroughly enjoy the twenty-fifth of December for the last five years.

The day would start at three-twenty in the morning, the certified time of Levi’s birth. Even though Eren could sleep through a nuclear explosion, he made an effort to either stay awake or wake up at that time, so that he could wake Levi. It would either be a blowjob or some other sleepily performed act of seduction, which would inevitably lead to a lazy but passionate early-morning romp. They would have a bath or a shower together, before Eren would prepare breakfast. If there was one thing the brat was stupidly proud of, it was his ability to make a breakfast “fit for kings”. His pride wasn’t misplaced; Eren made a mean spread.

After breakfast, Eren would give Levi his birthday gift. It was never anything overstated, but somehow Eren always knew what the man was lacking, despite apparently having all the earthly pleasures a man could possibly want. One year, Eren had bought Levi an electronic logbook and had taken the liberty of transferring all the man’s flight hours from the hard copy to the electronic version, printed it, and had it bound in a tasteful leather binder. Just last year, Eren had bought new straps for an old favorite wristwatch that Levi hadn’t worn since before they started dating, simply because he never had the time – or the desire to expend the energy – to find the straps he’d wanted. He’d been wearing that watch every day since.

Stroking the straps of the watch absentmindedly as he relived the day he had always hated but had grown to love, Levi’s memories then took him through the rest of the day.

After breakfast, they would go for a flight. Sometimes it would be in Lexi, other times Eren would hire a plane from 104th. Either way, they would spend an hour or so in the air, going nowhere in particular, simply enjoying their shared love of flight with one another.

The rule was that Christmas was not to be mentioned before noon.

Come noon, they would prepare for lunch with their friends at two; each year, the group alternated hosting Christmas lunch. Everyone would gather, they would have some drinks, open presents – they always played Secret Santa – and then they would have a lavish lunch followed by enough dessert to make even the most glutenous amongst them (undoubtedly Hange) feel guilty enough to vow to fast for a month. Of course, that never happened.

A day he once loathed became his third favorite day in the year. His first being his anniversary with Eren, and the second Eren’s birthday.

For five years, Eren had given Levi something to look forward to, given him one day that was special and just for _him_. Now, for the first time in half a decade, Levi was looking at the very real, and very terrifying prospect of having to go through that day alone.

Levi gasped as pain unlike any other gripped his chest. It stung, like his heart was ceasing, but around the decrepit organ was a tumultuous boiling of dark creation as a supercell of perfect pain brewed the perfect storm in the cauldron of his thoracic cavity. It bubbled so violently that every breath he took hurt; each inhalation caused the stabbing pain in his heart to compound while every whimpered exhalation crumpled the cauldron ever more, and the more he breathed, the more the violent storm threatened to spill over, to explode from the confines of his breaking body. It grew like a violent cancer, merciless and bloodthirsty as it sought to take over his heart, his lungs, seeking to sap the very life from him.

Yet despite the pain rendering him near catatonic, his eyes found June the seventeenth on the damn offensive thing against the wall.

The day it all began.

The otherwise unassuming Friday was the day that Levi’s world was torn to pieces. The block on the calendar was violently encircled in red, the marker’s lines repeatedly drawn over itself over and over again as if Levi was trying to cut the day from existence with the pen itself. But he knew that even if he were to forget every single thing about his own existence, he would never, ever forget June the seventeenth twenty-sixteen, and what happened that day.

And the agony of every single one of the one hundred and seventy-five days (and counting) thereafter.

His eyes traced along the calendar, lingering for a moment on each of the days that had been crossed out. In the twilight of dusk, the slashes on the calendar looked eerily like blood, and Levi thought to himself that it may as well have been his own. He wondered just how many more days he would be able to count before he would be bled dry, before his very soul would wither away to nothing more than a husk.

Hissing out a profanity, Levi blinked hard to tear his attention from the wall and fix it on the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He would have liked to be surprised by how quickly the level had dropped since he’d opened it barely a few minutes ago, but at this point, his gluttonous consumption of alcohol no longer shocked him.

Levi grabbed the bottle around the muddle and lifted it with a shaky hand; shaking not because of the weight of the liquor, but because of the weight of the burden he sought to lift by poisoning his body yet again. He shook because he knew that this would not be the only bottle he would drink tonight. He trembled because he knew that along with this bottle and the next, he would be swallowing pills, and he truly had no way of knowing if tonight would be the night that he would take it too far.

Because he could feel the thread that had been holding him together fraying. He could feel the demon of dread crawling out from the pit of his gut, and more so than that, he could feel that there was not a damn thing that he could do about it.

Tonight, after holding himself together for nearly six months, he would snap.

Like puss in an infected wound, Levi could feel the pain throb and boil as it begged for release. This time, he wouldn’t fight it – he knew he couldn’t, and unlike the times where he drank to try and hold himself together, this time he would be drinking in the hopes of giving himself strength to weather the storm.

He whimpered as a wave of nauseating pain overcame him. It burnt. Oh god, it burnt so much. It felt like he was being consumed by an unearthly heat from the inside, as if his heart had turned to the very core of the earth and was pumping lava through his veins. He wanted to tear his skin off, to dig his nails into his flesh and peel himself layer for layer. Anything to get rid of the pain he felt inside, anything to just be numb.

The tumbler filled up quickly, but Levi drained it just as fast. He idly noted that he’d become so impervious to the burn of liquor that downing it like water no longer gave that pleasant burn he so enjoyed when he drank a good whiskey. Just another one of life’s pleasures that had been stripped from him. _Probably like most of the things in life, _Levi thought acridly as he refilled the tumbler and drained it once again.

Before he knew it, the bottle was halfway. He laughed bitterly as he idly thanked the powers that be that he could afford to numb himself in this way. It made him think of the old adage that money couldn’t buy happiness. An adage most rich men countered with the fact that it could at least have one afford to choose the manner of his suffering.

Abandoning the tumbler, Levi put his lips around the bottle and took a deep sip. Even though the whiskey was a twenty-year old of good quality, it tasted like nothing to him. _What a waste, what a shame, _he thought, as he greedily gulped the amber fluid down.

None too soon, he was swallowing air.

Sighing, Levi set the bottle down and reached for the pills. He didn’t even know what they were, if he were being honest with himself. He just knew that a handful of colorful pills – it looked like he was holding a handful of Smarties – would quieten his mind. He cracked another bottle and swallowed the pills with impressive efficiency.

He eyed the wall planner again. Today’s date, December the ninth, had not yet been crossed out. He stared at the inoffensive block, willing the red slash to appear there on its own. A voice in the back of his mind mocked him that if he didn’t mark the day, it didn’t happen.

Another sip. A longer one. Eyes fixed on the unmarked block as the masculine knot in his throat bobbed up and down with each desperate gulp, uncaring for the straggling streaks running down his neck.

He wondered what Eren was doing. Fridays were usually Eren’s day off, and he would spend the majority of the morning and early afternoon hungover following the regular Thursday night booze up with his crew and other soldiers and contractors on his base. But being young had its perks, and Eren would join the lads in the pub again on Friday. And Saturday. That brat loved to drink, and with most of the soldiers and contractors in Marley sharing that passion, Eren never had to look far for someone to drink with.

Now, however, Levi’s guess was as good as anyone’s.

In fact, Levi chided himself for wondering something as menial as what Eren was doing. Hell, he should be concerned about more important things! Was Eren _okay_? Was he being treated with dignity…was he even being treated like a damn human being? Was he being fed enough; how often and _what the hell_ were they feeding him? What was his living conditions like?

Levi cringed and took a violent swig of the bottle as he wondered if his lover even had a fucking toilet to shit in.

Levi realized then that the crippling pain was gone. Its departure was so sudden that it left him reeling, and for a minute Levi stared at the half-drunk bottle in his hands as if it were the reason for the sudden calm. The numbness he so desired was blanketing him, and the warm comfort that it brought almost fooled him into accepting the embrace of happiness, and embrace so much like Eren’s.

Eren.

And just like that, the illusion was shattered. Levi’s heart thumped hard in his chest, the muscle lazy from the drugs and alcohol that seemed to be begging it to stop. Its labored beating was nauseating, the rhythmic _lup-dup_ pounding right in his throat, choking him as a stray image of Eren’s torture flashed through his mind.

His naked body bruised, battered, ribs showing from starvation and dried blood caked on his filthy skin as he lay curled up in a ball on the jagged, dirty floor of a makeshift prison cell.

“Fuck!” Levi roared, jumping to his feet and flinging the half-full bottle at the wall.

The bottle shattered on impact, sending shards of glass and a waterfall of whiskey across the wall and onto the floor. Even though his mind was flooded with images of Eren’s suffering, the graphic scenes tearing away at the serenity of intoxication, Levi’s eyes followed the trajectory of the bottle smashing as it hit the very wall planner that offended the man so. It was magnificent to watch; the bottom hit the wall-planner right in the middle, and even though the bottom of the bottle was the strongest part, it didn’t stand a chance against the force at which it was flung. Kinetic energy turned to deformation energy as the cracks ran along the length of the bottle for a nanosecond before the bottle seemed to explode as if a bomb had detonated inside it. The spray of whiskey that came from within looked like the lifecycle of a flower caught on time-lapse – pursed tight, a glorious bloom, and then a quick and uneventful withering death.

Through it all Levi heard nothing. He did not know if that was because his sudden rage had a rush of blood in his ears deafening him to the world, or if he was deaf because of the drugs.

It didn’t matter either way.

Nothing mattered.

For a moment that felt like an eternity, Levi stared at the wall-planner with a wild, deranged look in his eyes. His breaths came in short, staccato gasps as his heart fought against arrythmia, and as the seconds ticked on, the failing pump brought life to his still form. His fingers curled one by one until both hands were balled into fists at his sides, and that was when the calm dissipated.

The itch to hurt something, to _kill _something had him trembling as he held those white-knuckled fists at his sides.

He remembered what it was like to kill. But he did not remember his first kill. It had been said through the ages that the first time a man takes another man’s life, something changes within him. There is a shift in his psychology, a different appreciation for life and an awakening of the incredible power one possesses to end it. Fifteen, twenty, fifty years of life gone in the blink of an eye, at your hands. That experience changes a man. It leaves him with sobering thoughts and a different outlook on mortality. It might even make him feel like a god.

But that never happened with Levi.

It didn’t happen the first time he took a life. It didn’t happen the second, third, or even dozenth. It never happened because every time he took a life, every time he watched his bullets tear into a man’s body in a way that he _knew_ was fatal, he couldn’t appreciate the moment or savor the epiphany because if it weren’t his bullets in that man, it would’ve been that man’s bullets in _himself_. Killing a person who is aiming a rifle right back at you, your life one trigger-pull away from ending, makes the taking of a life a different experience. It negates the philosophy of the power of killing and instead brightens the appreciation of one’s own mortality. How futile life really is.

It’s sobering in a completely different way.

Despite it all, Levi could not deny the overwhelming power that came with holding another man’s life in your hands…and ending it. Destroying an enemy – for whatever disillusioned reason a young soldier would, be it patriotism or mere survival – was satisfying in a way that nothing on this beautiful, God-given earth could emulate.

And right now, that was all he wanted to do.

One by one, he wanted to barehandedly dispatch the motherfuckers who had dared taken Eren in the first place. He ached to singlehandedly torture and murder every single man that had harmed his lover, and the heat of the bloodlust rising within him was so overwhelming that it felt like it was tearing the humanity from Levi’s soul.

A low whine tore from Levi’s throat as he fell to his knees, defeated and weighed down by desires he dared not call his own. He was powerless, useless, and there was nothing he could do to change that. Nothing but fantasize about his revenge and hope for the best. Hope, even when hope was futile, because even all the money in the world held no power. He said he would do _anything_ to bring Eren back – he would lay off thousands of workers and watch Colossus burn to the ground with a smile on his face, and put himself on the street in poverty, if that’s what it would take. But for the love of god. Bring. Eren. Home.

The man’s frame shook violently. Pain gripped the very essence of his soul, its icy fingers holding his bones in its relentless grip and sending never-ending tremors through his frail frame. He had never felt pain like this in his life, its magnitude shocking the man numb. He could no longer feel his body; his muscles first burned white hot before numbness settled in them. He turned into nothing more than a heap of flesh and bones, a mess, in fact, as he collapsed on the ground in the fetal position. Unable to move, unable to breathe, Levi just lay there and wailed soundlessly, even his voice failing him.

Everything was failing him. Was this karma for failing Eren? Failing to protect him. Failing to dissuade him from the stupid decision to take this damn job in Marley.

Another whine. This one agonized, animalistic. Levi’s fingers reached out, not caring for the shards of glass penetrating his skin as he sought a new bottle. He couldn’t remember opening it. He couldn’t remember drinking from it. All he knew is that he wanted this it all to end. This ordeal, or his life; right now, he didn’t care which. Whatever would make the consuming ache in his chest go away.

It felt like he was grieving for the dead.

Hell, for all he knew, Eren was dead and rotting away in the filth of Marley.

A gasp, another whine, this one gargled. He fucking hated Marley. A whimper. Pain. Red hot, ice cold, blazing and paralyzing all at once. He fucking hated Marleyans. He choked out a sob as crippling pain assaulted him from all angles, inside and out, the hole in his chest growing by the second, threatening to consume him like a black hole.

He hoped it would.

_Just make it stop. Make it go away!_

Go away.

Fade into the blackness of unconsciousness. Or death.

* * *

Levi did not know how long he had laid there on the ground, but when his senses returned to him, it was cold and dark. June nights got particularly cold in Karanese, and having been sprawled out on the cold tiled floor for god knows how long, Levi’s body was stiff not only from the awkward position in which he’d passed out, but from the penetrating cold that had gripped his bones.

He opened his eyes, but when he was met with darkness, he feared his eyes might have been frozen shut. Even though he knew it was ludicrous, and quite frankly impossible, he stiffly reached for his face and prodded at it with numb fingers. It was puffy, swollen. Perhaps they were swollen shut. Perhaps it wasn’t the dark of night at all, but the middle of a beautiful day he didn’t deserve to see.

The man let out a labored breath before rolling onto his back – a gargantuan effort that had his bones clicking, popping and snapping like bubble wrap. He groaned, flinching at the rawness of his throat as air passed through it, but he was too pained to do much more than lay on the cold floor, ears acutely aware of the sounds of his body breaking amidst the crunching of broken glass and the distant hum of the refrigerator.

He lay like that until he heard a bird chirping. Then another. And another. As time crawled by, the darkness yielded to twilight, and Levi found that he had been staring up at the ceiling quite possible for hours. Eventually, it had become light enough for Levi to see the mayhem he had caused, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

All he cared about was the pounding headache and the grogginess of sleep deprivation…and how he would combat them both so that he could take on the day.

With a grunt, a huff and a hoarsely uttered profanity, Levi brought himself to sit. He was still wearing his button-up shirt and trousers from work yesterday, but the sleeves were messily rolled up to his elbows and the belt on his trousers was half undone. He propped himself back against his hands as he stretched his legs in front of him, turning his neck this way and that as he cursed his age for the kinks youth would surely not have him suffer for a night spent on the floor.

It was as he rolled his head that he noticed the wall-planner. The broken bottle. The mess of glass and whiskey all over the place. He stared at it in horror, not for what he had done, but for the fact that December the ninth had still not been crossed out.

Fighting the stiffness, he hauled himself to his feet and toddled unsteadily towards the wall, forgetting that he was wearing only socks until a shard of glass pierced into his foot.

“Ouch, fuck!” he hissed out, immediately lifting the weight off that foot and turning it about to assess the damage. By now he was close enough to the wall to lean on it, and when he saw the blood pooling in white material, a sick thought occurred to him.

He smiled humorlessly as he swiped as much blood as he could with his thumb and he used it to cross out the previous day.

Another one down. Another god-knows-how-many to go.

Hobbling off to the shower, Levi passed the kitchen and helped himself to another bottle. He drank deeply from it, the thirst of his hangover fooling him into desperately seeking any cool liquid. It did nothing to ease the burning nausea in his gut, and less so to soothe the violent thirst. He cared for neither fact.

When he stepped into the shower, he sighed in what could have been contentment at the warm water washing over his icy skin. At least he had the presence of mind to want to shower, he thought. To him that meant he wasn’t depressed.

A quick roll in the snow and he was ready for the day.

It never ceased to amaze him how spritely the drug made him look and feel. Even though it couldn’t undo the months of neglect, it at least hid the fact that he’d passed out drunk and drugged the night before.

He had just decided to forego wearing a tie when he head his home phone ring.

_Odd, _he thought. No one ever phoned this number, especially at this time of the morning; it existed purely for formalities.

He made no rush to answer it, and instead swallowed a handful of painkillers to ease the throbbing of his wounded foot. He had just secured his wristwatch when he heard Erwin’s voice on the answering machine.

“_…ransom is being paid and Eren is being released…_”

Levi froze. He stared at his shellshocked reflection as the rest of Erwin’s words drowned in the ringing of his ears.

Had he heard right?

It couldn’t be!

Not caring for the pain, Levi bolted into action, running faster than he had probably ever run in his entire life, making it to the phone just as Erwin was requesting a call back urgently.

“Erwin!” Levi cried out before the receiver was even near his ear.

“_Oh, good morning, Levi,_” Erwin said, sounding chipper as ever.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Levi was jealous of Erwin’s happiness. Jealous that Erwin still had Armin in his arms every night. Jealous that Erwin wasn’t going through this hell.

“You said something about Eren,” Levi prompted.

Erwin chuckled. “_Straight to the point, I see._”

Levi was in no mood for Erwin’s games. “I couldn’t answer your call because I was shitting. Now cut to the chase.”

Another chuckle. Jovial. Sickening. Levi wondered if he was strong enough to crumple the receiver in his hand like a piece of paper. “_I have good news._”

“Erwin.”

“_The ransom has just been cleared. Eren will be released tomorrow, at the absolute latest, but we are expecting the exchange to happen by noon._”

“I’m coming.” _Fuck Dimo, fuck Flegel, and fuck Rico. _

“_There’s nothing you can do, Levi. This is happening in Marley. Even Titan is not privy to this part of the deal._”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> The good news is that now after the time skip, we are going to get our boy back! Prepare for all the feels, good and bad.
> 
> Stay safe, everyone.
> 
> Much Love
> 
> OS


	15. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Wow, so much has happened in the last month! It really feels like the world has gone to hell :( I hope all of you are keeping safe!
> 
> I just want to put a note out to tell all my readers that I stand in solidarity with BLM, 100%, no Ts and Cs. And that my thoughts and prayers go out to all the trans people in America, where the presidency has signed such a heinous bill. My heart bleeds for all whose rights have been violated and continue to be violated every day, and whose lives are in danger because of the disease of hatred. Love you all, stay strong, keep fighting and most importantly, stay safe.
> 
> Here's the next part. A bit of a lull but after the last chapter, I'm sure we could all do with a bit of a break. Please enjoy.

“_And the top story this evening: Eren Yeager, who has been held in Marley for more than six months now, is finally coming home. The twenty-four-year-old pilot, who flies for Titan, was contracted to an undisclosed Marleyan company, and was at the tail end of an eight-week deployment in Lago, Marley, when the incident occurred. Ambushed by the well-known militant extremist group, Al-Mar, Eren Yeager, a copilot, and his captain, Zeke Yeager, were attacked at a military airfield on June the seventeenth this year. Zeke escaped with a gunshot wound to the leg and made a speedy recovery, but Eren Yeager was kidnapped by the extremists. Following months of negotiations led by The Reeves Company, Eren Yeager was finally released earlier this week after a ransom of three million dollars was paid to the extremists._

“_Historia Reiss, a twenty-four-year-old humanitarian aid worker, who was taken by the same extremist group in Lago in January, has been released with Eren. Negotiations for Historia’s release reached a dead-end in July when The Reeves Company outright refused to pay the demanded ransom, even after negotiations brought the price down to ten million dollars, a move that sparked much controversy and outrage amidst Eldians. At the time, Dimo Reeves was quoted as saying that they cannot give in to such high demands and that he was confident that Historia’s safe release would be guaranteed. Unconfirmed reports of familial relation to an unidentified top minister in the Eldian government was cited as the reason for the high ransom demand. The Reeves Company eventually paid five million dollars for Historia’s release, just this week._

“_The repatriation flight for the two young Eldians is scheduled to depart Lago within the hour and will arrive in Karanese in the early hours of tomorrow morning._”

Standing barely a meter from the TV, with the remote in hand, Levi watched the same twenty-second clip for what had to be at least the fiftieth time in only two days. News of Eren’s release broke to the public only two days ago, and the clip conveniently came along with it. Every news network in Eldia – and most large news networks around the world – possessed the footage, playing it several times throughout the day; whenever the story was so much as hinted at, the clip was played. And it seemed as though each news network was trying to outdo the next in dramatizing Eren’s ordeal: a very basic, animated video had been created as a reenactment of the kidnapping event; experts in fields that ranged from modern combat to psychology were regularly called upon in video interviews to weigh in on the events; and of course, some politicians came to the fore to voice their “growing concerns” about the deterioration of Eldia’s relationship with Marley.

The competition to make Eren’s ordeal seem as harrowing as possible did little to quell Levi’s anxiety. When they compared the experiences of previous victims – some of which were so disturbing that the reporters, or even the so-called experts simply skimmed over them – Levi felt his gut roll. Even though he knew that the news purposefully stretched the truth as much as possible to evoke strong feelings to make a story more compelling, he still couldn’t help the dread and sickness he felt when he considered the possibility that what they spoke of could have very well happened to Eren.

Yet despite it all, he couldn’t turn his eyes away from the TV whenever the clip was shown.

The clip – that couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds long – was obviously filmed on a cell phone. Levi found himself inexplicably pissed off at the poor journalism; he couldn’t believe that in this day and age, people could still sell videos with such deplorable quality and call it reporting. Of course, he didn’t think of the fact that in war-torn countries, journalists often had very limited tools to report with. Despite the quality of short clip, the content of the video was clear enough.Eren was being led to an armored vehicle by what appeared to be Marleyan soldiers (how ironic, Levi thought, even though he knew the Marleyan military was as invested in the fight against terrorism and extremists as any other nation). Soldiers and police officers could be seen in the background, all armed with assault rifles, holding off crowds; Levi couldn’t ascertain if these crowds were friendly or not. The camera shook a lot as the cameraman held it at arms’ length above everyone’s heads, desperately trying to get closer to Eren’s face, but Zeke aggressively held him off. Zeke’s hand could be seen hitting the camera at least three times in the clip, each hit followed by a sneer in a language only Eldians would understand. While Levi appreciated the sentiment, Zeke’s overzealous protectiveness made Levi feel uncomfortable. Such violent displays of protectiveness were reserved for lovers, Levi believed.

In those noisy twenty-odd seconds, there were only two clear shots of Eren’s face. In both, he was completely unrecognizable.

The first time Levi had seen the clip, he re-watched it at least a dozen times, pausing each time on the clearest shot of Eren so that he could stare in utter disbelief at the weathered man on the screen.

Eren’s hair was nearly shoulder length. It was unruly, knotted, and despite the poor video quality, it was evident that it was dry. He had more facial hair than Levi had ever imagined him capable of growing – nearly a full beard, albeit a scraggly one. His skin was dark and seemed to have lines on it that no twenty-four-year-old should have; lines that looked frighteningly like wrinkles, with dirt caked in the deep creases in his dry skin.

Eren, who was always proud of his appearance and reveled in his clean, boyish look, looked like the man at the corner of the road, begging for money or food, that most people would ignore.

It broke Levi’s heart.

But what broke the man more was the obvious void in Eren’s eyes. Eyes that Levi – and everyone, for that matter – knew as passionate, eyes that held a zest for life that seemed otherworldly in its enormity, were dead. There was nothing. Perhaps it was the poor quality of the video, but Levi could have sworn that the very color had been drained from those eyes.

One shot caught Eren from the side, but he turned and smiled a halfhearted smile that looked painfully rehearsed, and said, “_I can’t wait to get home_.”

The clip ended with Zeke smacking the phone to the ground.

“We can’t wait for you to come home, munchkin,” Hange said as she made herself comfortable on the couch behind Levi.

Levi scowled, his mood instantly souring upon hearing Hange’s voice. She’d been so uncharacteristically quiet that Levi had forgotten that she had, with no consent whatsoever, decided to visit. Five days ago.

And it wasn’t the first time she’d done this.

Some time in August, Levi had come home from work, excited to dive to the bottom of a bottle after a particularly arduous day, only to find Hange in his lounge. She was watching a crime documentary while gleefully munching on caramel popcorn. Flabbergasted by the scene that greeted him _in his own home_, Levi stared in slack jawed awe for half a minute before Hange spoke. Without even turning to face him, Hange simply said, “Do you know how tiring it actually is to strangle someone to death?”

It had taken Levi just over a week to evict the woman. He was sober for three of the nine days that Hange squatted at his house; she insisted on spending every moment together, from when Levi got home until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open. He knew it was her ploy to keep him sober, but he quickly wised up. He would chug an ungodly amount of whiskey and swallow a handful of pills in a matter of minutes just before bed. Hange was none the wiser.

The second time she’d unceremoniously moved in was sometime late in October. It was a Saturday night, and Levi had just emerged from the shower after having a few drinks. He was far from sober, and had only just pulled his boxers over his bare ass when he heard a ruckus coming from the kitchen. He grabbed his Glock and stalked downstairs, where he found Hange nonchalantly making a grilled cheese sandwich while sipping on a beer and dancing to some horrendous trance music blaring from her phone. Levi almost shot her out of sheer frustration.

She stayed for only four days that time, but in those four days Levi didn’t even bother hiding his habits from her. The intervention from Erwin proved that Hange had been acting as a set of eyes on the inside, and after a particularly nasty fight with him, Levi literally kicked Hange out of his home and revoked her spare key.

This time, only hours after breaking the good news to everyone, he’d found her in his driveway, sitting on top of a rather large, obnoxiously hot pink suitcase that threatened a long stay. When the death threats fell on dead ears, Levi threatened to phone the police. Hange very defiantly _dared_ him to do so, cheekily hinting that she knew of the illegal substances in his house, his car, and even his pocket. The man was left with no choice but to relent and let her in.

Strangely enough, unlike the last two times, Hange said nothing of Levi’s vices. She insisted on cooking (she was terrible at it) and baking (slightly better than the cooking, but Levi would not recommend it to anyone), and mostly stayed out of Levi’s way. It was as if she only wanted to offer her presence.

And try as he may, Levi could not deny that he appreciated it.

Just like all those years ago, after Isabel had taken her own life.

Hange had her own way of showing her support. Yes, it was obnoxious and quite frankly invasive, but it was effective. Even though Levi still managed to get his fix, he wouldn’t indulge as freely with her lurking around every corner. He would do the bare minimum to get the desired effects. Sometimes he would feel guilty when he caught her knowing eyes, and he could see that she was only pretending not to notice that he was wearing himself down. He hated the deceit in their relationship, but he couldn’t express how grateful he was that she’d never called him out. Not once.

Some of Levi’s other friends called her an enabler for not doing so. Petra had outright screamed at her for not doing more to save Levi from himself. Hange would never tell Levi this.

But the fact that Hange was right by his side through the most traumatic event of his young adult life gave her the credibility to deal with him now. She understood what he needed; even her presence was pushing him, but they both knew that that was one thing she wouldn’t surrender entirely.

Levi would thank her one day, in his own way.

“He better get home fucking quick,” Levi quipped as he sat on the couch adjacent to Hange. “The sooner he gets back, the sooner you can fucking leave.”

Hange snickered, unperturbed by the venom in Levi’s tone. “You have less than twelve hours to enjoy my company, sweety.” The innocence in her smile was frightening.

Levi grimaced. Twelve hours might not be much, but considering he would not be sleeping a wink in that period, twelve hours could become quite arduous. He wanted to quip back at the woman, but he felt too tired to do so.

The magnitude of his exhaustion was only just dawning on him. With reprieve not in sight, but finally in reach, Levi was already dreaming of the sweet embrace of a peaceful night with his lover finally in his arms. That fantasy threatened to drag Levi under every time he blinked; he feared if he held his eyes shut for longer than a split-second, he would fall into a coma.

Just then, he heard the name that would forever incite wrath within him. Historia Reiss.

Levi’s eyes snapped up at the TV. Even though he hated seeing the footage of that woman’s release, he could not bring himself to look away as the camera was all but shoved into her face, showing a smile too sweet for that godforsaken place.

The video of Historia’s release was much like Eren’s, only it was considerably longer. The camera followed the young woman – who looked like a high school girl, a child – being escorted to the same vehicle that Eren had just gotten into. The man walking beside her put forth a piss poor effort at waving the media off, and would often turn to talk to the reporters, even if it was just to say _no comment _or _I have nothing to say on the matter_. Historia herself also turned to the reporters every few steps, always smiling that dazzling smile that was too childlike for someone who had been held captive for the better part of a year. If Levi did not know any better, he would have thought the duo _enjoyed _the media attention.

Historia, much like Eren, was not in a good condition. Her hair was visibly brittle, she looked underweight and her skin was darkened, and like Eren, she had deep lines in her skin that seemed inappropriate for her age.

“That poor woman,” Hange mumbled.

Levi clicked his tongue. He did not share Hange’s sentiment; he felt no pity for the Historia. Only contempt. Watching her video – audaciously aired only minutes after Eren’s, every single time – filled Levi with white-hot rage that had him nearly foaming at the mouth.

“She’s the reason Eren’s release was stalled,” Levi hissed.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Hange said tiredly. She’d forgotten how obsessive Levi could become.

But the man believed she was with reason, and there was no telling him otherwise. _Just because it wasn’t written in black and white_, he’d said, _didn’t mean that it wasn’t the truth_.

As a man in the business of manufacturing weapons, Levi had seen his fair share of illicit trades. He knew better than most that there were some negotiations that could not afford a paper trail, no matter the stakes. In those deals, the power of the word held as much weight as that of the pen, and men would honor that word as if a contract had been drawn.

Of course, such deals were only made when someone had something to hide.

Like the fact that a company was willing to purposefully stall the negotiations of one person in a bid to secure the release of another, completely unrelated person.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t believe it,” Levi challenged, turning to face Hange.

The woman sighed and fidgeted with her spectacles as she lifted her gaze to meet Levi’s. His was intense, his pupils dilated, making him look like a madman as he stared at Hange, daring her to disagree with him.

She couldn’t.

Levi’s obsessing over the matter might be tiresome, but even Hange could not deny that he put forth some compelling facts.

Historia had been taken about five months before Eren. She was working in Marley providing humanitarian aid to the war-stricken nation when the aid station, where she and a dozen other humanitarians were working, was attacked. Four aid workers were taken, including Historia; the three men had been released within two months of their capture, while Historia was kept. About four months after her capture, negotiations reached a stalemate when Al-Mar refused to lower the price, and Reeves refused to pay the ten million dollars.

When Eren was taken, the negotiations for his release were running smoothly, at first. It seemed as though it would have only been a matter of weeks, perhaps three months at most, before Eren would be released. However, there was a sudden impasse, which later turned out to coincide with the time when Historia’s negotiations gained momentum. This only became apparent two days ago.

In fact, Levi did not know about Historia’s existence until he’d seen it on the news.

Suffice to say, when the facts came to light, he was livid.

He’d confronted Erwin, who acted none the wiser. The man swore he knew nothing of Historia, but Levi was no simpleton; there was no way in hell that Erwin did not know about her. For a man as thorough as Erwin, as invested in Eren’s safety as a friend and manager could possibly be, it would be inconceivable to think that he’d been deceived for half a year, and by the likes of Dimo Reeves, nonetheless.

“Thought so,” Levi said, when Hange said nothing. “We were all fucking played and Erwin just went with it.”

Hange frowned; she’d heard Levi threaten to kill Erwin just days before, and it wasn’t the usual snarling Levi spewed when he was irritated. “I really don’t think Erwin knew.”

Erwin Smith, a man that friends and colleagues called unfoolable. Levi just snorted.

“Seriously, Levi,” Hange implored. “He’s your friend. If he knew about Historia, he would have told you.”

“You don’t know that man,” Levi hissed. It was not said out of malice; Hange truly did not know to what lengths of deception Erwin would go if he deemed it necessary.

As much as she wanted to defend Erwin, Hange decided to just let it be. Eren was less than twelve hours away from being back in Levi’s arms, and Hange would be damned if Levi were to spend the next few hours seething.

“Well, whatever the case may be,” Hange said, smiling cheerfully, “Eren is coming home.”

That brought a smile to Levi’s face. All his aggression dissipated in the blink of an eye; Hange was relieved that she wouldn’t have to put up with Levi’s unbearable foul mood.

“I can’t fucking wait,” Levi said.

“So you say, but are you really going to meet him looking like _that_?” Hange asked.

Levi frowned. “Like _what_?”

“Like…” Hange gestured wildly at Levi before touching her own face and hair.

The man’s frown deepened. He knew he wasn’t looking his best, but considering the hell he’d been through the past few months, it was understandable. For Hange to call him out on his appearance when she knew very well the extent of abuse his body had been taking left the man feeling slightly offended.

“And how do you propose I catch up on six months of sleep in just a few hours?” Levi asked.

“We can’t do anything about your face,” Hange said without missing a beat. “But your hair. Good god, Levi. When last did you cut it?”

“A few weeks ago,” Levi said, scowling deeply as he ran his fingers through his hair. It was only slightly longer than usual, so he couldn’t understand the fuss. His undercut had grown out to about a number four – he was two weeks overdue for a haircut, but he didn’t think it looked too bad. As long as he brushed it…which he hadn’t today.

“Let me just neaten it up a bit,” Hange said.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Levi hissed.

“Levi, you need a haircut.”

“Then I will go get one tomorrow!”

“You need to look nice for Eren.”

Levi opened his mouth to retort, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to put in at least some effort to look good for Eren. It would be the first time in more than half a year that they would be seeing one another, so it was the least he could do.

Raising a brow, the man asked the question he was sure he would regret. “Do you even know how to cut hair?”

“I’m better with the clippers than scissors,” Hange admitted. She gave Levi a quick once over. “I can neaten up your undercut, but I’ll leave the rest of your hair. It should look fine.”

Levi had shaved another man’s hair many times before. He’d even shaved his own hair more times than he cared to count. It wasn’t difficult, and he supposed even Hange wouldn’t fuck it up. He was afraid he would regret it, but he agreed. Hange fixed a round of drinks while Levi retrieved the clippers he hadn’t used in what felt like years, and none too soon he was sitting in his living room wearing only his briefs, while Hange much too gleefully shaved his hair.

He would, in fact, not regret the haircut.

* * *

Mikasa was in a flat spin.

Even though she knew Eren would go to Levi’s house – his own home – she still insisted on preparing a room for him, just in case. It couldn’t even be called a fool’s hope; it would be blatantly naïve to think Eren would want to spend his first night at his sister’s house instead of the home he’d built with his lover. Nevertheless, Mikasa still had some delusional hope that Eren would choose her over Levi. If not, then at the very least he had a place to stay if he wanted some time away from home.

She’d been relentless in her efforts to make the spare bedroom in the apartment that she shared with Jean absolutely perfect.

Eren was not one for frills, but he liked things to be at his fingertips, just for the sake of convenience. He always slept with bottle of water beside his bed – he liked the 750ml bottle because the 1L was too bulky, and the 500ml bottle wouldn’t last the night. And it could not be a screw-top bottle; drinking whilst half-asleep would not bode well for Eren with a bottle that required some semblance of coordination to operate. He liked a bedside lamp so that he wouldn’t need to get out of bed to turn the light on and off, and he also liked a flashlight for in case the bedside lamp had blown; getting to his phone’s flashlight took too long. Some form of lip moisturizer was always appreciated, but was not a must-have. Mikasa opted to put moisturizer on the bedside table nonetheless.

As it neared five-thirty in the evening, Mikasa had just finished dressing the bed. Every time Eren had spent the night in the past, he’d complained that the double bed was minute compared to the extra-length king that he and Levi had. Mikasa always scolded him for complaining with a white bread under his arm. Now, she couldn’t wait to hear his bitching and moaning…although something told her that the last thing Eren would complain about would be a bed. The last time they’d spoken, while he was in Lago but before he’d been kidnapped, he was complaining about having to sleep on a single bed and “would give anything for even a three-quarter”.

Jean had been helping where he could, but it quickly became apparent that Mikasa wanted to do this on her own. He could best describe her behavior as _nesting_, and found himself terrified of the day he and Mikasa decided to start a family. If they ever got to that point.

This saga had taken a huge toll on their relationship. Mikasa’s stress manifested in aggression, and since they lived together, she usually took it out on him. They had been fighting a lot, and the constant fighting had pushed Jean to stay away from home later in the evenings. He’d picked up all sorts of hobbies in his effort to stay out late – archery, frequenting the driving range to hit golf balls, jogging…some nights he’d stay out as late as ten to watch cricket at a pub. He didn’t even like cricket.

The thought of ending their relationship had crossed Jean’s mind more times than he dared to admit even to himself. But he knew that leaving Mikasa during this saga would be selfish and would hurt her like hell. To the point she might kill him, Jean mused, citing that _hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_.

Besides, what kind of a man would he be if he were to forsake his partner when she needed him most? He knew that Mikasa’s aggression was simply her being overwhelmed and unable to express the pain she was experiencing, unable to communicate her worries and unable to handle the immense stress. If anything, she needed him now more than ever, even though she acted like she wanted him to fuck off most days.

Hell, if the roles were reversed, the narrative would be exactly the same.

So he stayed. As time crawled on, it got better, but it also got worse. He’d confronted Mikasa about it some months ago, and after a fight that had him sleeping in the spare room for a week, barely speaking to or even looking at Mikasa, they reached a point where Mikasa was consciously trying to avoid lashing out when she was overwhelmed. He appreciated the effort, but it was just treating the symptom, not the problem. Nevertheless, it helped.

Since news of Eren’s release had reached them earlier on in the week, Mikasa’s mood had changed dramatically. It made Jean glad that he’d stuck with her – seeing her in such high spirits had had such a profound effect on him that he found himself in a happy, borderline manic mood. After the previous months of hell, it was a welcomed feeling.

As Mikasa rampaged through the house, Jean stayed as far out of her way as possible. He’d parked off with a light beer by the TV, and was watching highlights from the semi-finals of the Paradis Rugby League. The Scouts – his and Eren’s team – were scheduled to clash against the Southern Giants in the final tomorrow. The PRL final was always a massive game; Eldians loved their rugby, and with two Eldian teams in the finals – something that hadn’t occurred in the last ten years – the entire country was surely going to be in an uproar tomorrow. Because no matter who won, the trophy would stay in Eldia. To sweeten the deal, The Scouts were the defending champions.

Yet as excited as he was to watch the clash, Jean felt an irrational sense of irritation. He and Eren, despite not being the best of friends, would often get together to watch The Scouts’ games. A game of this magnitude would undoubtedly call for a bigger crowd, a barbeque and a good few beers as they backed their boys. However, with it being only a day after Eren’s return, Jean knew his friend would not want to come over to drink, watch rugby and socialize.

Even though Jean knew it was irrational and quite frankly selfish to feel that way, he couldn’t help that he was pissed off by this fact. It made him feel like an insensitive prick – who the hell would be angry at their friend for not wanting to hang out _the very day_ after coming home from a harrowing six-month ordeal at the hands of militant extremists in a war-torn country? What brand of asshole did one have to be to feel this way?

_Jean Kirstein_, he thought sourly. He was feeling irritated for feeling irritated in the first place.

But when he gave it more thought, he realized that his feelings might make sense.

Eren had been away for close to eight months. Of those, he’d been in captivity for six months. Now that he was finally coming back, it felt like the ordeal was finally coming to an end; months of stress, worry and sheer panic, and Eren was finally going to come home. Safe. Everyone was getting Eren back. Their lives would return to normal. Or at least it was supposed to.

Jean knew that normalcy was a damn long way away for Eren and everybody in his life…and _that _was what pissed Jean off.

After everything that Eren had been through, after everything that _everyone_ had been through, they wouldn’t catch a break just because Eren was coming home. Yes, things would be better, but Eren would have a mountain of trauma to work through, and those closest to him would need to adjust to the man that this ordeal might have turned Eren into.

And all Jean wanted was to have his damn friend back.

He wasn’t above admitting that he had missed Eren and was glad that his friend was coming home. He’d spent the last half a year worrying, just like everyone else. While he couldn’t begin to comprehend Mikasa or Levi’s plight, they were all on the same boat; they might not have the same cabins on the shit cruise, but they were in the same damn boat.

And knowing that this was the calm before the storm angered Jean…because if anything, Eren deserved a fucking break.

“Fucking finally,” Mikasa said as she emerged in the passageway, hands on her hips and stomach jutting out like a pregnant woman. It looked comical, but Jean held in his laughter.

“Done?” he asked. Mikasa nodded. “Beer?”

“Fuck yes,” she muttered, righting her posture before making her way to the kitchen. “Can I get you one?”

“Please.”

Mikasa cracked their beers, handing Jean his beer before dropping down on the couch beside him. She curled up against his side as she sipped on her beer, nonchalantly grabbing the remote and changing the channel back to the news. Jean clenched his jaw but said nothing.

The video of Historia’s release was being shown again. It meant that Eren’s video had already been aired and that this run of the story (possibly the hundredth) was almost over. As happy as Jean was about the news, he was sick of watching the same thing over and over again, with apparent experts all saying more or less the same thing.

“I can’t believe it’s finally over,” Mikasa said. “I thought it would never end.”

“Yeah,” Jean said. _Can’t believe Eren didn’t irritate those bastards into releasing him sooner_, Jean thought, for what had to be the millionth time. Not once did he share that thought with Mikasa.

“Do you think it’s going to be bad?” Mikasa whispered.

Jean knew she was talking about the trauma. PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder. A person would be foolish to think that Eren would come back without some form of trauma. He hadn’t ever said it out loud, but he knew there was a possibility that Eren wouldn’t be remotely the same person that he was before the ordeal…at least not for a long time.

Jean knew firsthand the power that trauma had. He knew just how violently it could rattle a person to their core, how it could completely change a person. If he had to look at himself now and compare it to the man he was just half a decade ago, before the accident, it would be like looking at two completely different people. The change was too dramatic to be attributed to time alone. And while the trauma of loss was different to Eren’s experience, Jean could only imagine what six months of hell could do to a person.

“Honestly, I think it’s going to be pretty bad,” Jean said.

That was not the answer Mikasa wanted to hear. She took a long drink of her beer as if she were trying to wash down the jagged pill of that heinous truth.

“But he’s got a good support structure,” Jean continued. “He’s got you, Levi, his friends…and I’m pretty sure they’re going to make him see a professional.”

“Like a psychologist?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s gonna hate that.”

Jean smirked around the neck of his bottle as he took a sip, imagining Eren crying bloody murder while being dragged by his ears to see a shrink. He could relate to that, though; when he had to do it, he’d hated it too. Looking back now, he couldn’t imagine ever getting through his trauma without that help.

“It’ll be for the best,” Jean said. “But he needs to realize it himself. If anyone forces him to go, he’s just going to shut off.” _Like the stubborn bastard he is_.

After another particularly long drink that put Mikasa’s beer impressively close to empty, she laid her head on Jean’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m just so scared for him.”

“I know.” Jean lifted his arm to rest on the back of the couch and Mikasa snuggled up against him. “But like I said, he has all of us. He’s not gonna go through this alone.”

The conversation ended there. They stared idly at the TV as the weekend’s weather was forecasted, sipping their beers.

The couple spent the rest of the night in silence. The beers were traded for coffee, and as the time came for the repatriation flight to depart Lago, Marley, the countdown began.

Neither said a word to the other as they re-watched old movies; they weren’t in the mood to, nor would either be able to focus on watching a new movie. And with the anticipation of Eren’s arrival inciting the restless buzz of anxiety within both of them, sleeping was out of the question. It was an unspoken agreement, but neither Mikasa nor Jean even so much as hinted at getting any sleep.

The first flight would be from Lago to Liberio, and would be approximately two and a half hours long. A short layover in Liberio would follow, and there after the final flight to Karanese would depart. That last flight would be an agonizing five and a half hours, and was scheduled to land in Karanese sometime after five in the morning. Even though Eren would have to go through passport control and baggage claim, Mikasa would be waiting on the airport when that aircraft touched down…along with every other person who was anxiously awaiting Eren’s arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Please share your thoughts. Eren will return in the next chapter. How do you think his first day home is going to be? I'm keen to see what you think!
> 
> Much Love  
OS


	16. Home At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who read and left comments on the last chapter! They really do brighten my day.
> 
> Especially now that I seem to have developed some weird form of posting anxiety...like this chapter has been done for weeks now, but I just never posted it. This lockdown is surely sapping the last of what little sanity I had left...
> 
> Anyway, as always, thank you for your patience and for dealing with my horrible inconsistency.

Everything was exactly the same.

If Eren were to compare the kitchen before him to a photo of the same kitchen eight months ago, the two would be identical. Nothing moved. It looked like nothing had even been touched since he’d left. Even the coffee station – the Wega Pegaso coffee machine (that Eren had always thought was beyond excessive for a home, but enjoyed nonetheless) the various coffee cups (espresso, cappuccino, latte, to name a few), the sugar, and an array of coffees of varying strengths, from different parts of the world – looked as though it hadn’t been used. The notion that such an impressive coffee station would remain unused for the better part of the year was ludicrous; Levi lived off coffee when he worked.

Eren’s first thought was that his mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way that everything was _exactly _as it had been when he left, yet the harder he looked, the more it seemed to be the case. Then a snide voice in his mind mocked him, _how could you possibly remember what it looked like when you left? It was too long ago._ So he looked harder yet, and still, it seemed to be the same.

Maybe he just wanted it to be the same. Maybe he _needed_ it. If things were the same, then he could pretend that time had stopped while he was in captivity, that the world had held its breath in anticipation of his return. If time had stood still, then he wouldn’t have missed anything – months that he would never get back – and he could continue living the life he had before he’d gone to Marley.

As ridiculous as it was, Eren was desperate for it to be true.

While he examined the kitchen, Eren had one hand pressed lightly to the cool countertop. His fingers caressed the smooth granite; the days in the clinic and the repatriation flight notwithstanding, this was the coolest surface Eren had touched in months. Everything in Marley was so damn hot. Even the bars and metal doors of some of the cells he was held would retain their heat in the dead of night.

Levi watched Eren carefully, standing a few feet behind him. It was like watching an animal being reintroduced into the wild; Eren was tentative and tense, and while his eyes were borderline frantic as they examined his surroundings, there was a fascination within them that seemed unnatural for such mundane surroundings.

What Levi didn’t know was that one of the things Eren was marveling at was the sheer amount of space around him.

Even before the kidnapping, Eren did not have a lot of space in Marley. His room was small, and while he wasn’t strictly confined to it, there weren’t many places to go. The base was not a big one, but it was laid out in such a way that there were many relatively open spaces (some of the bases Eren had seen had containers so tightly packed together it was the container equivalent of high-rise apartments in the city). The gym was small, for a gym. Eren had ventured to the market just across the road on a few occasions, but that offered little reprieve; the stalls were so tightly packed together it made him feel uncomfortable to be there. His trips to the beach – Lagos’ equivalent of a beach – gave him a sense of freedom, but he often worried about his safety so much that he couldn’t enjoy the open air.

Then, of course, when he was in captivity, he was confined to his less-than-stellar accommodations around the clock. His captors would eventually let him out for a few minutes every other day, but that could barely even be called stretching his legs.

A myriad of emotions were playing in Eren’s mind as it finally sunk in that he was home. He couldn’t process what he was feeling, and the barrage of emotions, both positive and negative, was so overwhelming that it rendered him somewhat catatonic. There was so much going on in his mind that it felt like it was blank – like everything was stirring together with such ferocity that it created white noise. But above everything, emerging from that white noise was sheer disbelief.

Eren never thought he would ever see home again.

In the beginning of his ordeal, Eren feared for his life. He was constantly on edge, fearing that any moment could be his last. The men around him were all armed, and when they spoke, which seemed to be all the time, it sounded like they were shouting at one another. They often shoved and hit each other when they spoke, and Eren, who could not understand their language, always thought that they were arguing about what to do with him. Or when to do the inevitable. It had him on edge for days, unable to sleep properly and nearly constantly uttering wordless prayers to a god he never believed in before.

Eventually, that state of heightened arousal became the norm. The fear was so a part of Eren’s every day that he no longer consciously felt it. It was always there, simmering beneath the surface, but he no longer paid it any mind. He never wanted to admit that it was resignation, but he’d accepted that if he were to die, there was nothing he could do about it.

When days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, resignation finally did set in. Only this time, it wasn’t for his mortality, but for his freedom. He’d stopped dreaming about going home – how warm the sun would feel on his skin if he were free, the kiss of the wind in the open, what he would have as his first meal back home (pizza was winning over a massive burger), and of course, the sweet taste of an ice cold beer. That was the first thing he wanted, he thought; a beer on the verge of freezing. But like all things, Marley took even his fantasies away from him. As time crawled by, Eren resigned himself to the fact that he would never be released; he was going to die in Marley, and it might not be by the executioner’s blade or bullet.

So even when he was released, he could not believe that he was free.

After he’d gotten into that armored vehicle with Zeke, he was waiting for the driver to pull out a pistol and shoot Zeke in the head, laugh, and drive Eren to his execution site. Even when he’d been admitted to the clinic and treated by his own countrymen, Eren was expecting the bomb to drop at any moment – both figuratively and literally. As the Fokker took flight in Lago just yesterday afternoon, Eren waited with bated breath for an RPG to down the aircraft. It was only an hour into the flight from Liberio to Karanese that Eren felt like he was no longer in imminent danger, and even then, he felt suspicious that someone in the plane, or a bag in the hold, would blow up and tear the aircraft to shreds.

When the door opened at the boarding gate for disembarkation at Karanese, Eren wanted to cry. He’d made it. After months of accepting he would never breathe the air of Eldia again, he did; he took a deep breath as soon as he’d stepped of the plane, and even though it was in an airbridge and not the open air, he swore he’d never smelt anything so sweet in his life.

Eren sighed as another emotion then broke through the static: happiness.

“I’m glad to be home,” he whispered to himself, remembering his words to the reporter who had filmed his release on a cell phone.

“I’m glad to have you back home,” Levi answered quietly, but his voice still startled Eren.

The brunet wheeled around, eyes as wide as dinner plates as they met with Levi’s. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts that he’d completely forgotten he wasn’t alone.

“It’s just me,” Levi said, raising his hands slightly. He mistook Eren’s fright for fear.

“Yeah, I know,” Eren said, trying to play it off by forcing himself to smile. “I just uh…was caught up in the moment. Forgot you were here.”

“Sure.” Levi obviously didn’t believe him, but neither said anything further on the matter. “Do you want to eat something?”

Eren’s kneejerk reaction was to say no, or at least act as if he did not want to eat. One thing he’d learnt within days of being captured was to not want for anything, as it only gave his captors more ammunition to torment him. He had to remind himself that this was Levi he was talking to, and that Levi would never do something as cruel as deny him a meal after it had been offered.

“Yeah,” Eren eventually answered. Levi narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the long pause, but Eren ignored it and went on to say, “I just want to wash first. I feel disgusting.”

Levi snorted. “You’ve definitely smelt better.”

Eren rolled his eyes and chuckled. He’d missed Levi’s humor.

Neither man moved. Levi expected Eren to saunter through the house as if he owned it, get into the shower and come out fresh and ready for breakfast. Months ago, that would have happened, but now, Eren did not feel entitled to walk through the house on his own. In fact, he didn’t feel safe doing so.

It took a moment for Levi to realize what was happening, with Eren staring at him expectantly, and when he did, his heart clenched. Eren was waiting to be led. Levi’s gut rolled as he was hit with the violent reminder that Eren had been a prisoner for half a year and had been conditioned to not act on his own. Eren, the headstrong, fiercely independent pilot, unable to walk himself up the damn stairs to take a shower in his own home.

“Come on,” Levi said, turning quickly lest Eren see the anger and sadness in his eyes. As they walked up the stairs, Eren a few behind Levi, the man said, “You can use any towel, they were all changed yesterday. I got your shower gel and facewash, and your body lotion and face cream. I’m not sure if you want to shave but your shaving cream and razors are in the basin cabinet as usual.”

Eren frowned; he hadn’t thought of shaving in months, and it showed. He touched the coarse hair lining his chin, and pulled at it. It was long and curly, but instead of growing down, it had just grown outwards, thickening the bush. With it still being a bit patchy, it looked unruly and quite frankly was a piss-poor attempt at a beard, but Eren did not want to shave it. In Marley, men without beards were seen as lesser men, and that was a lesson that Eren learnt the hard way, very early on.

“I’ll skip the shaving, thanks,” Eren said.

And then, as if he’d walked through a portal, he was in the master bedroom. Their bedroom. Eren stopped dead in his tracks and turned to stare at the bed. It was massive! He had completely forgotten just how big an extra-length king-size bed was.

Back at base, before he was taken, Eren had been sleeping on a single bed. Bearing in mind that before then, he hadn’t slept on a single bed in three, possibly four years, he couldn’t bitch and moan enough about it. But after the kidnapping, he would’ve given up a kidney to get that meagre single bed back.

Now he found himself wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with all the space on a king!

“Damn, that bed is big,” Eren said, smiling widely.

Levi, who was already halfway in the bathroom, turned and found Eren staring at the bed with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. It looked wildly out of place amidst the overgrowth of facial hair, but Levi was glad that that boyishness was still there.

“It’s even bigger if you sleep in it alone,” Levi said.

“Well, I’m back, so no more of that.”

“Good,” Levi said. To say he was looking forward to being in bed with Eren was a violent understatement. “Anyway…you shower, I’ll get breakfast sorted. Anything specific you want?”

Eren chuckled and raised a brow. “You really think I care what you feed me?”

Levi opened his mouth to retort, _it’s your first meal back home so I want you to enjoy it_, but he quickly shut it again. That knot in his gut twisted even tighter as it occurred to him that it would take some time before Eren felt comfortable or confident to make his own decisions.

“Sure,” Levi said, forcing himself to smile. “Enjoy the shower.”

“Thanks, I will!” Eren said.

He then all but bolted past Levi, into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him with a gleeful squeal of _fuck yes, a lock!_

Levi chuckled at this. Knowing how excited he usually was to get to his own shower after a trip, he could only imagine how Eren was probably stripping with maniacal glee in anticipation of stepping into their shower for the first time since April.

* * *

As soon as Eren was alone, his mask fell off. He let out a long breath, surprised at how exhausted he was by pretending to be in high spirits. But it was what everyone expected, so who was he to disappoint them?

When he stepped under the strong jet of lukewarm water, he sighed. Finally, he could wash the filth of that godforsaken country off his skin. This shower would be his baptism, and when he emerged from it, he did not want a single inch of his body holding onto any reminders of the horror that had befell him.

It played out like a movie scene in Eren’s mind. He stood under the jet of water with one hand pressed against the wall, head bowed so the water struck the back of his head and neck. Rivulets ran down his face dramatically, following the path that the tears he hadn’t been able to cry in months should have traversed. And like the tortured protagonist in a blockbuster, Eren’s mind was filled with despair.

So much had changed, yet nothing had changed at all. The house was the same, Levi was the same…the world was the same fucked up place that it was when he’d left, but now he was no longer blind to its atrocities. In his time in Marley, even before the kidnapping, Eren had seen so much evil and tragedy that it would have been impossible for him not to have changed in some way. And having experienced some of that evil himself, there was something deeply fundamental within him that had changed. He could feel it, and even though he denied its depth and reckoned that it was just temporary, just shock, he knew in his heart that the Eren that left Eldia months ago no longer existed.

Eren Yeager was back home, but he was far from free.

There was a long road ahead. The prospect of what was to come terrified Eren, but he had no choice. He’d been the victim for long enough, and he would be damned if he let this tragedy continue to rule his life.

His mind drifted back to a night he’d spent drinking back at base with Zeke and some private military contractors, a few weeks before he’d been kidnapped. The men that travelled the world, working as private contractors were some of the most hardcore men alive, Eren imagined, trained to kill armed men with their bare hands. But even they said that you must process everything in due course.

_“It’s not always possible on the job, because people’s lives depend on your focus,” one man said. He was a team leader for a private security company that worked as personal protection detail for high risk targets. “I’ve seen my best friend killed in front of me. I once lost my whole team and almost my life when our Bradley drove over an IED and then got nailed in an ambush. You can’t always mourn there and then, but you have to do it. You have to go through your process. Don’t bury it. Work through it. Cry, drink, fight, fuck. Just don’t ignore it. Because if you do, it will eat you alive…and let me tell you, kid, I ain’t letting trauma have any power over my life. Nothing will ever have power over my life except myself, and God.”_

Eren found it odd that he was remembering that now. What he found stranger, though, was that he was not just remembering what the man had said, word for word, but he could vividly remember exactly how the man had looked while speaking. He was a big, burly man, someone you would not dare mess with. At least six feet tall with a bald head and a full beard, his body was layered with enough muscle to intimidate but not so much as to make him appear sluggish. He had full sleeves tattooed on both arms. When he drank – and he liked to drink gin and tonic with a slice of lime – his hand enveloped the entire tumbler. It was with that massive hand encircling a near-empty glass and leaning against the table with an elbow that he spoke to Eren. His dark eyes were boring intensely into Eren’s, but a smile played on his lips the whole time he spoke. He was clearly very happy with the advice he was giving.

Taking that advice, Eren closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of the water on his skin as he let his mind drift. It did not go far, perhaps because it hadn’t yet completely sunk in that his ordeal was over.

He had to convince himself that he was free, and knowing this, his memories never went further back than the day of his release.

After being released, he and Historia were taken to a clinic in the Green Zone. Both of them underwent a thorough medical examination, and even though there was a lot of poking and prodding, it all went by in a blur. The nurses drew blood, checked his blood pressure, took a chest x-ray, and performed a borderline invasive full body inspection for marks or scars. Eren was then hooked up to an IV; unsurprisingly, he was severely dehydrated.

One thing he could clearly remember about that first day out was how ridiculous he found it that he and Historia were not allowed to share a room because they weren’t of the same gender. Never mind that they’d lived together in a cell for months. That was the first night in months that Eren had slept alone in a room, and if it weren’t for the medication, he would not have slept at all.

A shiver ran down Eren’s spine and he turned up the heat in the shower. The memory of how cold that first night in the clinic was brought a deep chill to his bones that he couldn’t shake.

The aircon was set to a comfortable twenty-five degrees centigrade, but Eren was freezing. After months without aircon, this apparent room temperature felt arctic. He remembered wondering if death felt this cold, and in the delirium of drug-induced sleep, he did think that he’d died.

The days that followed were spent waiting for the results of the bloodwork. He’d been on an IV the entire time, with a nurse coming to take his vitals every four to six hours. The nurse, a man from Eldia, would always ask how Eren was feeling or if he needed anything. When Eren barely responded – in no mood for small talk – the nurse took it upon himself to tell Eren about life back home. Gas price had been increasing every other month for months now, sin tax on cigarettes and liquor had increased by the biggest margin in decade, and the legal limit for blood alcohol when driving had been reduced to 0.00g per 100ml from the previous 0.05g. The nurse said it was bullshit, because just one beer would have a person eligible for being arrested for a DUI. Eren agreed, but never voiced his opinion.

Now that he thought about it, he wondered how Levi felt about the change.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and a muffled call of his name.

“Yeah?” Eren called back.

“You okay?” came the muffled response from the other side of the door.

Eren sighed and shut off the water. “Yeah, just finishing up.”

“Alright. Breakfast is ready.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right down.”

When Eren stepped out of the shower, he eyed the steamed-up mirror for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should wipe the glass to look at himself. He decided against it; he knew he looked like shit, and he did not want to confront the mess that was himself just yet.

He then dried himself off with what he swore was the softest, fluffiest towel he’d ever felt. It was as if he’d rolled into pure luxury. He wanted to wrap himself up in the towel and fall asleep, but his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since he’d left Marley; even though there was food on the plane, his stomach was so tightly wound in anticipation of disaster that he could barely even stomach water.

So much for having an ice cold beer at the first opportunity. He wondered what Levi would say if he were to ask for a beer with breakfast, but smiled as he realized Levi would happily hand him one.

After dressing in a plain white V-neck shirt and a pair of boxers, Eren made his way back downstairs. Each step made him smile; the feel of the cool tiles under his bare feet was heavenly.

By the time Eren wandered into the kitchen, it was past eight in the morning. Despite not having slept for over twenty-four hours, Eren didn’t feel tired at all.

“Enjoy the shower?” Levi asked as he presented Eren with a cappuccino that looked like it belonged on tv.

“Oh yeah,” Eren said, smirking lazily as his eyes lifted to meet Levi’s. “Though I gotta admit I forgot how complicated that shower is.”

“All that fancy shit was your idea,” Levi retorted.

Eren chuckled. “Touché.”

“I made French toast. Wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

Of the two of them, Eren had always been the better cook. He liked to joke that he had to earn his place as the billionaire’s arm candy, but the truth was that Eren simply enjoyed cooking. That, and Levi was so used to having things done for him that he couldn’t cook anything elaborate. So to see the French toast, far from perfectly done, meant Levi had put in extra effort. He’d grated cheese on top of both slices; it was just how Eren liked it.

“Thanks, it looks great,” Eren said with a smile.

“Better taste great too,” Levi said. “I made it with a lot of love.”

And by the gods, if that was not the best French toast Eren had ever eaten. After wolfing down both slices, he had one of Levi’s, and then still twisted Levi’s arm to make two more. Levi was all too pleased to make more, happy that Eren at least had an appetite. While they hardly spoke through breakfast, just having Eren there was more than the man could have ever asked for.

* * *

Eren went to sleep after breakfast and did not emerge for the whole day.

Levi was not surprised by this. The long day of travelling had clearly exhausted Eren, and Levi was willing to bet that this was the most comfortable bed Eren had slept in since he’d left on tour. As tempted as he was to be with his lover – to crawl into bed and hold him tight and kiss him, or even just to sit in the room and bask in the fact that he was there, in their bed – he knew it would be selfish to disturb Eren’s sleep, or to impose on his space. If there was one thing Eren needed now more than rest, it was a safe space.

So Levi kept to himself all day, despite fighting the compulsion to check in on Eren every few minutes – he wondered if he felt this way because he was concerned or if it was simply so that he could prove this wasn’t a dream by seeing Eren with his own eyes. Nevertheless, he fought the urge, forcing the voice in his mind that was telling him that this was all a dream into submission by doing the one thing that never failed to calm him down – clean.

The house was pristine, even by Levi’s standard. Anxious for Eren’s return, he had scrubbed, rubbed and dusted every inch of their home. Hange had helped, and when they were done, exhausted, he was pleased to note that their home was ready for Eren. He could only imagine that after spending months in the dusty filth of Marley, Eren would appreciate the sterility of a clean home, although perhaps it was just him projecting how he thought he would feel if he were in Eren’s position. He could see by the way Eren’s fingers traced the surfaces in their home that he was pleased by how clean it was.

Nevertheless, Levi put on a pair of rubber gloves, grabbed the cleaning supplies, and went to work, despite knowing his efforts would be for naught. There was something about the monotonous motions of scrubbing, rubbing, rinsing and wiping that Levi found incredibly therapeutic. Cleaning washed away filth, decay, and the evidence of sin. It was cleansing, not only physically, but emotionally as well. _What the eyes can’t see, can’t hurt the heart._ His psychologist had once called it a coping mechanism, but Levi didn’t care for the technicalities. All he knew was that when he cleaned, he felt calm. He felt like he was creating a new beginning.

Also, he felt like keeping his hands busy prevented his mind from wandering. He would concentrate on the task at hand, leaving little space for thoughts to intrude on the peaceful symphony of cleaning implements against tiles, glass or wood. Or whatever it was he was cleaning.

Today, however, his most trusted method of distraction was failing him. As he felt his mind begin to wonder, he tried harder to focus on cleaning, going so far as repeatedly alternating between reciting the alphabet backwards and counting back from one hundred, but no matter what he did, his thoughts intruded on his peace.

Even though those thoughts started out innocently enough – being happy that Eren was back – Levi knew it was only a matter of time before they turned sour.

The first invasive thought was that he felt disappointed by Eren’s return.

Levi had built up the fantasy of Eren’s return for months…even before the kidnapping. Since the moment he’d seen Eren off at the airport, he had dreamed of the day his lover would return. And once Eren had been taken, the reunion that Levi had been dreaming up became ever sweeter, perhaps even to the point of being unrealistically romanticized.

In his fantasies, Eren could not wait to be in Levi’s arms. The moment their eyes met in that terminal, Eren would drop everything and run to Levi. They would embrace, tears flowing, hands balling into white-knuckled fists as they held onto one another with such force that not even the destruction of the universe would be able to tear them apart. Breathless utterances of love and happiness at finally being together again would fall from their lips between desperate kisses. There was no press, no family, no friends. It was just the two of them. And once they were home, they would shower together, touching one another gently as Levi cleansed Eren of filth of Marley. Their touches would turn more intimate until they eventually fell into bed together, making passionate love until exhaustion pulled them under and they fell asleep in one another’s arms.

The reality, of course, couldn’t have been farther from the dream.

Eren was quiet and withdrawn. When he appeared through the glass doors in Terminal B Arrivals, he hid behind Zeke as cameras flashed and voices roared through the otherwise nearly empty building. Reporters pushed to get closer and they fired off questions in such quick succession that their voices blurred into a cacophony of meaningless noise, to which Eren simply responded with some obviously rehearsed responses and smiles that were so fake he may as well have not even bothered. Throughout the ordeal – which lasted only a few minutes at best, where Eren was no more than just a few meters away from his loved ones – he’d held onto Zeke’s arm as if Zeke was his lifeline. Levi hated that he could do nothing but stand aside and watch, barred by security from getting any nearer to Eren as Zeke entertained the press.

As soon as Eren could, he bolted to the nearest bathroom and locked himself in the stall. It was then that Levi broke through the barrier of security. The guards called after him, and one man even gave chase, but Levi could not care if they went as far as pulled out a gun and shot him…but he would get to Eren no matter what. He raced to the bathroom where Eren had disappeared, shoving and even hitting the insensitive press who had taken to chasing his lover. He cursed and growled as he fought the crowed, but eventually, he made it into the bathroom with a threat to _fucking kill any fucker that dares come in after me_.

Surprisingly, his threat was heeded…by all except Mikasa, who had stormed into the bathroom right after Levi, reiterating his threat of violence to those waiting outside.

It took some time, but the two of them eventually coaxed Eren out of the bathroom. They managed to get Eren to the parking lot without much hassle, thanks to Eren’s friends aggressively fighting off the press. All he’d said was _I want to go home_ in a whimper so pained that Levi swore he could feel his heart physically clench in his chest.

The drive home was quiet; Eren turned off the radio and just stared out of the window as the sun began to rise in the east. He never looked at Levi once in the half an hour it took to drive home, never mind utter a single word.

The Eren that had returned from Marley was a far cry from the man that had left months ago. Not only was he barely even physically recognizable with his long hair, darker skin and scraggly beard, but there was nothing about him that was like the Eren Levi once knew. He smelt different – like cheap soap, wood and tobacco – and the light in his once-bright emerald eyes was no more. All the innocence Eren had had, innocence that Levi often teased but had always secretly admired him for still having at his age, was gone. Eren had seen the vile ways of the most inhumane act mankind partook in – war – and it showed. He had not consented to being violently thrust into the midst of armed conflict, and he had undoubtedly suffered injustices that no civilian should ever suffer. Hell, no _human_ should ever suffer the brutality of war.

But Eren had, and it would be naïve to think it wouldn’t change him. Seeing that change, though, was as heartbreaking as it was infuriating.

There was nothing sweet about Eren’s return, except for the mere fact that he was home, and that pissed Levi off to his very core. Not because his fantasy was nothing more than just that, a fantasy, but because he couldn’t believe that Eren had been made to suffer this way. And seeing Eren try to act normal only further fueled Levi’s ire, because the impersonation of Eren that this imposter was trying to play was so horribly inaccurate that it made Levi want to rip his hair out.

He quickly realized that it was probably because Eren could not even remember who he was before the ordeal, never mind how he used to act.

_How could this happen to Eren? _Levi kept asking himself, all the while swearing to avenge his young lover. He swore he would hunt those bastards down and make them suffer, even though he knew it was idealistic, unrealistic and quite frankly impossible.

Right now, what Eren needed more than to be avenged, was to be loved so that he could heal.

Just one look at Eren and Levi knew that he would need a hell of a lot of time and support to recover. The clear visage of trauma was evident in the young man, and if there was any hope of him ever even coming close to the person he was before this ordeal had begun, he would need to take advantage of every resource at his disposal. And Levi knew that he would have to lead the assault on the journey of Eren’s healing and recovery, and to do that, he would need to devote as much time as possible to his lover.

And as selfish as the thought was, now was the worst possible time.

Flight testing for the airborne weapon’s system was scheduled to start in the new year, after some political hubbub in obtaining the relevant clearances delayed the testing that was set to have already been completed. This flight testing was the final step in having the system approved by aviation authorities, and once that was done, the weapons could be equipped on aircraft. If everything went well, Colossus would see its deadliest weapon’s systems to date making its debut on the battlefield in a matter of months. Needless to say, if there was a time that Levi needed to be attentive to his company, it was now.

But he had no desire to do so.

Eren’s disappearance, months ago, had forced Levi to reevaluate his priorities. Most of his adult life had been spent being groomed for the position of CEO and when he attained it, he worked tirelessly to take the company to new heights. Success was all he wanted…or so he’d thought. Having loved and lost, and then found love again, Levi felt like he had it all. Wealth, a perfect partner…hell, he thought his life was perfect. His work hours were demanding, but he loved his job. His partner understood his commitment to the company. Things could not have been any better. But now that he looked back, he realized that his entire life had been sitting on the sideline for years so that he could grow the company that he had never wanted to run in the first place.

The long hours at work were hours away from Eren. The days and weeks on business trips was time that he could have been vacationing with his lover. Even the conversations where Eren spoke about the stupid shit the student pilots did, while Levi responded with the bare minimum interest, distracted by his work, came back to him to haunt him. He’d realized too late that he’d wasted so much time with Eren, time that he would never get back.

When he faced the very real possibility of never seeing Eren again, his regret for the time lost and the things he never got to do with Eren ate him alive.

His priorities had to change.

It could no longer be himself and Colossus. If he had any hope of living a life free of regret, he would have to devote more time to Eren. To their life together.

He would have to resign as the CEO of Colossus.

Now was far from the ideal time to do it, not only because of the status of the company’s latest project, but also because of Levi’s age.

Levi was the youngest CEO of a major company that Eldia had ever seen. In fact, critics across the world called Colossus’ decision to appoint him as the CEO while he was only in his twenties as a highly irresponsible and potentially disastrous decision. Even though Levi had proven the critics wrong time and again, the eyes of the business world were always on him. If he were to resign now – amidst the greatest weapon’s development project in Colossus’ recent history – not only would it cast a negative light on the company, but stocks would fall and creditors could potentially pull out to protect themselves from what they might believe will become a disaster. Not only that, but Levi had at least another twenty-odd years that he could work as CEO. His resignation would cause one hell of a flurry in the business world.

Then there was a complication that Levi did not want to think about until he’d committed to making the decision: his father.

For all intents and purposes, Levi owned Colossus. Or rather, that was the simple way to look at it. While he was a large shareholder of the company, Levi was, technically, only the CEO. He still answered to the board of directors, who in turn answered to chairman, who was also the majority shareholder, and technically the rightful owner of Colossus: Kenny Ackerman.

Levi’s decision to resign would have to be approved by the man that had so far done nothing but made his life hell. Not only that: Levi wanted to join the board of directors. It would be unheard of at his age, but it was the only way he could stay involved in the company without losing his power…and his wealth.

That negotiation was one that would have to be done face to face, and Levi knew it would be more begging than a negotiation. The thought made him cringe, but if he had to do it, he would.

Levi sighed as he stripped the gloves from his hands. It wasn’t just a big decision to make, but there would be a lot of swallowing of his pride that he would never hear the end of. The last thing he wanted to do was give that man any power over him. Seeing Kenny for quarterly meetings was hell enough…to need to go out of his way to see the man _and _then grovel would be hell.

“Fuck,” Levi said. _The things we do for love._

Just then, his phone rang. He was grateful for the distraction, but having seen nothing but an influx of calls from the media all day – everyone wanted an interview, or at the very least, a statement regarding Eren’s return – he’d ignored every single call. This, however, caught his attention thanks to his desperation to break his spiraling thoughts.

_Mikasa Ackerman._ He snorted as he read the name on his screen. _Just as well I didn’t ignore it._

“Hello,” Levi said as he brought the phone to his ear.

“_How’s Eren?_” Mikasa asked, wasting no time.

“Why, hello to you too,” Levi said sarcastically. “I’m doing just peachy.”

“_I wasn’t asking about you._” She sounded tired.

“Just basic etiquette,” Levi quipped. Before Mikasa could reply, he said, “He’s exhausted. He’s been asleep all day.” It was now approaching six in the evening.

A moment of silence followed. Levi knew that Mikasa was probably wondering if he was telling the truth or not. Then, deciding that Levi was no liar, she asked, “_Was he feeling any better when you guys got home?_”

“Yeah. He seems to be a little overwhelmed by everything. He just showered, ate and went to sleep. I haven’t seen him since about nine this morning.”

“_Wow, okay. Well…I guess anybody would crash after what he’s been through._”

“Yeah.”

“_You think it’s going to take a long time for him to be okay?_”

If there was one thing that Levi learnt very early on in life, it was that it was impossible to compare one person’s trauma to another’s. Two people could go through the exact thing, and it would destroy the one and barely even faze the other. He’d seen it firsthand: soldiers in the same firefight, in the exact same circumstances, reacted completely differently to the experience; some were so rattled by brushing so close to death that they did everything they could to get out of the military, some dutifully accepted that this was their lot in life and continued to serve, some seemed to have no feelings on the matter, and some were so excited by the experience that they had a lust to go out and fight some more. It gave some truth to the school of thought that circumstances don’t dictate the outcome, and rather it is the people in them, and how those people react, that will determine the outcome of a situation.

So to say how much time it would take Eren to reach the point of being “okay” would be a wild guess, at best. However, instead of telling Mikasa all this, he simply answered her question.

“I think so.”

She sighed. “_Did he tell you about what happened?_”

“No. We hardly spoke at all.”

“_Okay,_” Mikasa said before sighing again. Her compliance was uncharacteristic in this situation, and it only showed Levi how exhausted she must be. “_Well uhm…when he wakes up, could you give me a call?_”

“Sure.”

“_Thanks, Levi._”

Without giving the man a chance to respond, Mikasa ended the call. Levi slipped his cell back into his pocket and sighed. The thought he had been trying to avoid all this time came to him then, and try as he may, he couldn’t shy away from the simple, yet deeply loaded question:

_Am I really ready for this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read and hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments, thoughts, questions or even a hello :)
> 
> Lotsa love  
OS

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the interest! Comments are always welcome.
> 
> OS


End file.
